


Paper Flowers

by Anonymous_Ostrich



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Codependency, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mixed POV, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, agender/demisexual Garry, platonic ship, plot heavy, takes place two years after Promise of Reunion ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Ostrich/pseuds/Anonymous_Ostrich
Summary: Memories are like works of art. Fragile, precious, they wear with time, they change. They fade. Ib and Garry never wanted to forget. Forgetting would be like losing a piece of themselves, a piece of their friendship. Everything changes with a simple phone call and a mysterious yet familiar stranger who asserts himself effortlessly into Ib's life. The cursed gallery is not done with them yet.





	1. Ib

" _Every act of creation is first an act of destruction." - Pablo Picasso_

* * *

 

Dr. Marshall tapped a long finger against her pen, observing her notes while gently worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Ib watched her, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She often got absorbed in Dr. Marshall's habits during their sessions, partly because it was distracting, partly because she found it fascinating that a psychiatric professional could display so many compulsive habits at the same time.

The slender, polished finger ceased its tapping and Dr. Marshall's kind brown eyes swept up to regard Ib, offering her a smile. "Let's talk about the 'locked room' dreams again, Ib."

Ib nodded stiffly. "Mm. Okay."

"Is that alright?" Dr. Marshall asked. "Last time we spoke about them, you weren't too responsive."

"I didn't really know what to say. I'll try and be more helpful today."

Dr. Marshall smiled again. "Remember what we talked about, Ib. Take things at your own pace, say what you're feeling." When she received a confirmation in the form of a silent head-nod, Dr. Marshall pressed on, crossing her legs and leaning forward in her seat as though they were about to trade secrets. Ib supposed that was the gist of a therapy session, after all.

"You've been having these dreams for two years now, Ib. You mentioned you had another one a few days ago?" Ib nodded again. Dr. Marshall mirrored her. "Tell me about it."

Ib squeezed her lips together, summoning internal reserves of courage she often needed in order to speak out loud in full sentences. Dr. Marshall was patient. She'd been Ib's psychiatrist long enough to know how long it often took the little girl to collect her thoughts.

"Um… It's the same as the rest of them. I'm in a small room with two doors, one behind me, one in front of me. Something is trying to come through the door behind me, so I run to the door in front. The next room looks the same. The doors get harder and harder to open, until I reach a room where there's no door at all. Only monsters. They close in on me and I can't go back the way I came." She paused, looking down at her lap, where she noticed her hands were gripping each other so hard her knuckles were turning white. "Then I wake up."

Dr. Marshall was tapping her pen intermittently between jotting down notes. Once Ib had finished and gone silent, she set the pad of paper against her knee, her black stiletto dangling off her elevated foot as it bobbed absently. "No different from the rest, you're right. Do you remember what we talked about before? What those dreams might mean?"

Ib nodded again, but said nothing. A familiar, dull frustration pooled in the pit of her stomach as Dr. Marshall stared at her expectantly. At Ib's continued silence, Dr. Marshall sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers in her lap. "Ib. I need you to say it. Talk it through."

It was hard to talk things through when you had to leave out crucial chunks of information. She'd never even attempted to discuss the nightmares she often had about Mary; Ib could hardly imagine how _that_ conversation would go, or what possible interpretation Dr. Marshall would summon up. The little girl averted her eyes, focusing on the hem of her cream-colored frilled skirt. Garry helped her pick it out weeks back, which served to calm her nerves slightly.

"The locked rooms are my inability to open up to others. The monsters are my insecurities about socializing with other people." Ib glanced up, meeting Dr. Marshall's eyes. "Right?"

Dr. Marshall sighed. "Ib, this isn't a quiz. You don't have to parrot my own words back to me." She pursed her lovely full lips after she spoke. Ib wondered vaguely if she would ever look as good wearing lipstick as Dr. Marshall. Maybe when she grew up. "We seem to always hit a wall whenever we talk about the dreams. If my interpretation doesn't feel right, we can always explore other possible meanings." She smiled encouragingly. "Do you have any ideas, Ib?"

Ib had _plenty_ of ideas. It _could_ have been the horrifying experience she'd survived two years ago. It _could_ have been the twisted monsters that had chased Garry, Mary and herself through the exhibition. There was no way she could tell anyone about the Guertena exhibit or her experiences inside the fabricated world. Only Garry understood, but since her parents didn't, they'd been paying for these sessions for over a year now. It was fine since Dr. Marshall was so nice, but in Ib's opinion, it was a huge waste of time.

"No." Ib answered honestly. Dr. Marshall nodded understandingly, but Ib could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.

"I see. Well, we'll come back to that another time. I'm just glad these nightmares are appearing less frequently, now." She scribbled something down on her notepad. Ib marveled at how quickly adults could write things. "Let's talk about something else. How about your friend Garry?"

Ib felt her pulse quicken by a fraction. She disliked talking about Garry with adults. Her parents were fine - they had long since accepted their unconventional friendship, though it had taken a little while - but other grown-ups often reacted strongly when learning that Ib's most beloved and treasured friend was a 21-year old aspiring fashion designer who _also_ happened to be a man.

"He's fine," Ib answered. "I'm going to see him after our session today. We're going to a cafe."

Dr. Marshall smiled, though it looked strained. It was her usual expression when they discussed Garry, as though she were at a posh dinner party but was dissatisfied with the food. "Well, that sounds like fun. Will you need my phone to call him after we're through?"

Ib shook her head. "He's meeting me there. I told him what time we would be all done."

"As usual, your parents know where you'll be, right?" Dr. Marshall asked, her tone trying hard not to sound condescending though it was impossible not to. Ib nodded, feeling that small flame of indignance flicker in her stomach whenever a grown-up passively implied that Garry wasn't a trustworthy person. "That's good." Dr. Marshall clapped her hands together. "We've got ten minutes left, Ib, so how about you tell me how school is going?"

.

.

.

The door of the cafe swung open, familiar bells twinkling overhead as the little girl stepped into the small cafe and looked around. Immediately a figure was waving at her from their favorite table on the right side of the counter by the big window, wavy purple bangs shielding one side of his face but unable to hide a bright smile. Ib smiled in return, making her way over to the two-person table, adjusting the bag tucked under her arm. This particular table was their favorite because it was surrounded by plants, and currently a pair of spider plants were hanging over their heads, long shoots of pale green stems covered in baby plants blooming from every side.

"Ooh, wonderful, you brought the dress!" Garry smiled as Ib stole the seat across from him, setting the bag down in the center of the table. The little girl nodded, rummaging around in the bag for a tick before pulling a white and red summer dress from its confines, presenting it to her friend. Garry scooped up the dress, rubbing the material between his fingers and following the side hem with his eyes before stopping just over a bunch of snagged string protruding from the hem. "Ah, I see. I can fix this easily. It's just shoddy craftsmanship." He scoffed, carefully placing the dress back in the bag. "Mass-produced, no doubt. You know, a hem is meant to be act as the _backbone_ to the piece! With a cheap hem like that, what did they expect?"

Ib smiled into her knuckle. "Garry, you can get so fired up about clothing."

Garry uselessly swiped some fringe away from his eye only to have it fall right back into place. He grinned apologetically. "Ah, sorry, Ib. It's hard to hold back when I get going."

Ib shook her head. "It's fine. It's what makes Garry Garry." The girl swung her legs under the table, as her feet still didn't quite touch the ground. "Thank you for fixing it. Mama says thank you, too."

"It's never a problem," Garry answered fondly, putting the bag in his duffel sitting by the legs of his chair. "The dress aside, we should get some treats and drinks, don't you think?"

.

.

.

The sheer volume of sweets that Garry could consume continuously alarmed and fascinated Ib. As the little girl poked at her slice of strawberry cheesecake with her fork, she eyed her friend curiously as he polished off a plate of small lemon tarts, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. Garry set the plate aside and slid another small plate in front of him that held a slice of raspberry mousse cake.

"Ib, did you want to try some of this?" Garry asked, offering the little girl a forkful. "It's sinful, this stuff."

Ib leaned over the table on her elbows, opening her mouth. Garry carefully fed her the piece of cake, resting his chin in his hand, smiling fondly at her. Ib sat back in her seat, chewing the cake thoroughly. The sweetness of the cake was drowned out by a bold tangy flavor, causing her face to pinch with the sensation. Garry chuckled.

"Too tart?" he asked. Ib shook her head, swallowing the cake. She took a sip of her milk.

"No, it was good," the little girl said conclusively.

"I'm glad," Garry mused, trying the cake himself. After only one bite, he set his fork down and gave Ib his full attention. "So. How did your appointment with Dr. Marshall go?"

Despite how appetising her cheesecake looked, Ib set down her fork as well, folding her hands in her lap. "As well as ever," she replied simply.

Garry flashed her a smile filled with remorse. "That well, eh?" He leaned his elbows on the table. "Sorry, Ib. Your mama and papa just want to make sure you're okay, and this is the only solution they can come up with."

Ib stared at her cake, nodding her head gently. "I know." Her gaze drifted back to Garry's face. "It's just that we never get anywhere, since I can't tell her anything. She thinks I'm… uhm… repro… repress… …"

"Repressing?" Garry ventured curiously. Ib nodded.

"Mm. She says I'm 'repressing memories'. I'm not repressing them at all, I just can't mention them. And I can't _tell_ her that I can't." She looked down at her hands. "It's… frustrating."

"I know," Garry said sullenly. "But from what I hear, she really has your best interests at heart. And she's a nice lady, right?"

Ib nodded again, but remained staring at her hands. Garry tilted his head at her beseechingly. "Hey, did something happen today? It seems like there's more to it than just that."

It was always hard for her to explain in words what she was feeling. It was easier with Garry - admittedly, he was the only person she could attempt such things with - but it wasn't always a matter of preference, but of capability. If Dr. Marshall was right about anything, it was Ib's innate inability to open up to people, but it wasn't by choice. Ib merely had trouble conveying something as intangible as emotions and ideas into words and sounds. It didn't come naturally to her, not even a little bit.

Garry never rushed her, or made her feel she was abnormal or wrong. With him, it always seemed worth the effort.

The little girl slid her hands between her thighs, hooking her ankles behind the legs of her stool. "I don't like it when Dr. Marshall talks about you." Ib finally said flatly.

Garry rested his chin in his palm, his visible eye widening in surprise. "Oh? Does she talk about me often?"

"Almost every session," Ib admitted ruefully. Garry's expression grew concerned.

"What sorts of things does she say?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of worry.

"She asks how you are." Ib answered, her lips pulling in a small pout. Garry blinked.

"O-oh. Is that… all?"

"It isn't what she says, it's how she says it," Ib tried to explain. "It's how all grown-ups act whenever they find out. Except for mama and papa, of course."

Garry's expression softened in understanding. "Ah, I see." He folded his hands together, resting them on the table. "I'm sorry, Ib. That sounds troublesome."

Ib felt guilt rear up in her throat. "N-no, it's not your fault. It doesn't trouble me, it just…" The little girl stewed on her words again, trying to decide how to say it. "...it frustrates me, maybe."

"Ib, dear, I've never known you to be truly frustrated with anyone or anything," Garry started with a chuckle. "In the case of Dr. Marshall, well- I suppose it's only natural, right? She just wants to help, and from her perspective it all must seem a bit strange."

Ib hummed an affirmative, her shoulders slouching. After a moment, Garry reached over the table and gently touched Ib's hand, pulling her attention toward him. She met his eyes, suddenly too aware of the way her own expression was sulking.

"Hey, Ib... Don't mind what Dr. Marshall says or doesn't say, kay? I know it's cliché to say they just don't understand, but… well, they really don't, hon."

Ib knew it without Garry having to say it, but it didn't make it any less aggravating. In the past, Ib had never cared what other people thought of her. Her silent indifference always came off as snobbish or shy - there was no in between - and if she wasted energy worrying about what people thought of her, she knew she would likely worry herself to death. It was different when Garry was involved. When it concerned Garry, she cared. She wasn't sure why.

"I know," Ib sighed, offering Garry a small smile. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Garry gave her hand a farewell pat, pulling away to swing his finger in the air. "Ah, I know just the thing! How about I take you to the lake this weekend? We can pack lunch and drinks and have ourselves a relaxing time down by the water. What do you think?"

The little girl's face brightened with the suggestion. The lakeside was her favorite place to visit in the Spring and Summer. She and Garry often took trips there when he didn't have school or work. Ib nodded, swinging her legs again.

"I'll ask my parents, but I'm sure they'll say it's okay." Ib chirped, excitement welling in her chest. "We haven't been there in a while, have we?"

Garry's eyes rolled upward in thought, scrunching his brow. "Well now, I suppose we haven't." He smiled gently. "All the more reason to go! Ah, I'm getting excited just thinking about it."

"You don't work this weekend?" Ib asked curiously, sipping her milk.

The cheery look on Garry's face slipped for a fraction of a second. Ib noticed even though it was replaced just as quickly. "Oh, my hours have changed recently. I'll have the next few weekends off from work. Isn't that nice?" He smiled at her, though it was vaguely strained. "And I should have your dress fixed by then, as well. I'll be sure to bring it when I pick you up. Oh, but let me know for sure if your parents say it's okay, right?"

Ib nodded, setting her cup down. "Garry, is everything fine?" the little girl asked. Garry tilted his head, stabbing another bite from his cake.

"Of course!" he said, popping the cake into his smiling mouth. "Why wouldn't it be? I'm having dessert with my favorite girl, and we just made plans to go down to the lake this weekend! Not to mention-" Garry's spine straightened abruptly and his mouth formed a wide 'o' of surprise. "That's _right_ , I haven't told you yet! Ib, you'll never _guess_ what happened."

Ib's eyes were blown open in curiousity. "What happened?"

Before waiting for the girl's inquiry, Garry was sifting through his duffel bag, producing a magazine. The spine was creased to keep a specific page open, which he placed on the table, pushing it toward Ib's inquisitive gaze. He tapped his finger on the page, over a tall, slender androgynous model wearing a white lace summer dress that was cut just above the knees, and a slate-grey and white striped shawl worn loosely around their shoulders. Dark brown laced boots covered their calves, and their wrists and hands were adorned with bracelets and rings. Altogether the ensemble looked terribly familiar to her.

"Ah, this is…" The little girl's eyes trailed over the small paragraph to the right of the image and she gasped, looking up at Garry with eyes wide as saucers. "Garry…!"

" _Right_?" Garry laughed giddily. "Can you _believe_ it?"

Ib read the paragraph again. _**"Bold Summer Expression"**_ _Who said shawls were only for winter? We've got your cozy but cool weekend look covered with this ensemble by Garry Edmonds, the 3rd place winner in this year's Self-Promo Contest._

"Garry! You won a contest?" Ib pulled the magazine closer, determined to stare at the image until she'd memorized every detail. "That's incredible!"

"3rd place, remember," Garry reminded with an embarrassed chuckle. "Can't get too ahead of myself, now."

"Still, there's a person wearing your clothes right here on the page!" Ib pressed on, gazing up at Garry over the page with shining crimson orbs. "Garry's name is in a magazine! Oh, and…" she looked at the outfit a bit more closely, "Mm. Have I seen this dress before?"

Garry nodded, leaning both his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. "That was the dress I had you model a few months back, remember? I submitted that design _weeks_ ago and forgot about it completely, but yesterday I received a letter of congratulations from the magazine. A little late, considering it had already been printed, but… Better late than never, I suppose!"

Ib beamed at Garry warmly. "I'm so happy for you, Garry… It's incredible. Ah, can I take this home to show mama and papa?"

"It's a little embarrassing, but it's fine," Garry answered, his pale cheeks flushed rose. "It's still a weird feeling, seeing my name in print like that."

"I think it's great," Ib said, hugging the magazine to her chest. "Really amazing."

Garry smiled at the little girl brightly - his usual genuine, glowing smile. For a moment, Ib realized maybe she'd been worrying for nothing.

"Thank you, Ib." he said, touching his hand to his chest. "Ah… Dear me, I'm starting to get all emotional… Let's finish our cake, hmm? After that, I'll walk you home, and we can stop by that odds and ends store you like so much. Sound good?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad to finally start sharing this! I've been working on it since July. A big chunk of the story is already finished, so I'll be updating fairly regularly. :3
> 
> This fic is meant for both Ib/Garry shippers and those of you who aren't all about that. Absolutely nothing inappropriate will happen between Ib and Garry (while she is underage, who knows how long this fic will go on) but you can expect lots of platonic love all over the place, cause that's gonna happen OH BOY HOWDY can you expect that, HECK
> 
> Just a heads up, a while back I wrote an Ib fanfic called "Purple", so if you've already read that one, you might notice some similar themes in this fic, but they are ultimately unrelated. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。


	2. Garry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garry receives a serendipitous phone call while visiting the lake with Ib.

Garry was positively distracted.

It didn't help that economics was already a boring subject. Of all his prereqs, business and economics were by far his least favorites, but he couldn't attribute his absent mindedness to how drab the modern expansion of industrial economics was to listen to before he'd had his coffee.

Garry's morning class ended, leaving him certain that he hadn't retained a single ounce of information. He'd taken notes, but he was sure they were garbage. His mind was firmly stuck on Ib, and the gutless lie he'd told her at the cafe. He was to take her to the lake today… How could he face her, after he'd knowingly lied to her face? He'd never lied to her before. Though some might call this particular brand of mistruth a 'white lie', Garry considered a lie a lie no matter what color it was.

Garry walked across the campus toward the North exit, his mind in turmoil. He had to get himself together before meeting with Ib; he still had to make them lunch before picking her up, and it wouldn't do to be so distracted when he was trying to show Ib a fun time.

A hand suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him to a forceful halt. Garry yelped in surprise, turning to view his attacker.

"Wha-! Who-?"

A pair of upturned brown eyes stared back at him, belonging to a girl with long, wavy black hair and lovely copper skin, wearing a low-cut boho dress and jacket. Despite the fright she'd caused, she kept a firm hold on the back of Garry's shirt. Garry let out a loud sigh, patting his hand over his heart.

"Fi, _good lord_ , you scared the life out of me…" He took a gulp of air. "Why are you grabbing me like that?"

"Seriously?" Fiona finally released him, and pointed her finger just ahead of them. "You were about to walk straight into the fountain, Edmonds. Like, _straight_ in. As hilarious as that would have been to see, I thought I'd do the right thing, you know?"

Garry followed Fiona's pointed finger to confirm his friend's allegations; unfortunately, it seemed she was absolutely correct. Even more embarrassingly, the fountain was spewing water and making all kinds of noise, just proving how very out of it he'd been.

Groaning into his hands, Garry turned away from the fountain as if it were mocking him. "I can't believe I was _that_ distracted… My, that would have put a damper on my morning, wouldn't it..." He peeled his face from his hands, glancing at Fiona with a pitiful expression. "Thanks for catching me…"

"I called at you _twice_ , too," Fiona pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. "You had this 'thousand-yard stare' going on. It was like you were possessed."

"Yeah, well… I've got things on my mind, is all." Garry answered with a sigh, readjusting his bag's strap on his shoulder. "And now that you've snapped me out of it and saved my morning, I need to get going or I'll be late."

Garry started off again, Fiona close to his side. "Oh, right. You and Ib are going down to the lake today, right?"

Garry hummed an affirmative. Fiona clicked her tongue. "Just an idea, Gar, but maybe job hunting should be your top priority right now, yeah? I know Ib is important to you, but…"

" _Ughhh_ ," Garry groaned unhappily, his shoulders sagging, " _Why_ did you have to remind me?"

"You can't just forget about it," she said, clapping a hand on Garry's shoulder. "Trust me, I get it. Losing your job really sucks, but if you don't-"

"Not _that_." Garry sighed, "It's Ib. I sort of lied to her the other day. She asked me about work, and I…. Well, I _lied_ is what I did. I didn't want to trouble her, but that's no excuse… I lied to her, and now I feel _awful_."

Fiona chuckled, though it wasn't mocking. Few friends of his really understood his relationship with Ib, but Fiona was about as close as it came. Garry didn't keep many close friends, but he supposed Fiona was as near and dear as he allowed anyone aside from Ib. He'd known her for almost six years, and they'd met during a rough time in his life. Fiona was the first person he'd ever met that was like him… Another person who didn't fit the cookie-cutter design their parents had laid out for them.

"Good grief, Gar. You stress over just about anything. Ib is eleven now, right? I think she can handle the news. It might worry her, but that's normal. She cares about you, after all."

Garry sighed again. "You're right, naturally." He stopped, scratching his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I'll tell her today so that I can stop worrying about it."

"That's the spirit," Fiona grinned, slipping her hands into her jacket pockets.

"Are you done with classes for the day?" Garry asked.

"Yeah, but I'm going to stick around to finish a project. Thomas is working on something, too. We've got a little group over on the East side, by the benches. I'd ask you to join us, buuuuut."

"Sorry," Garry offered with a smile. "It must look like I'm slacking, huh?"

Fiona smiled, pursing her lips. "Just a little. But hey, who are we to judge the winner of a fancy fashion contest?"

" _3rd place_ ," Garry reminded sternly, turning on his heel to continue on his way, leaving his friend behind. He waved behind him as he went. "Say hi to Thomas for me, okay? Thanks again for saving me back there."

"Get a job, Edmonds!" Fiona shouted after him.

.

.

.

His bag was heavier than he'd anticipated. He'd set out to make a light lunch for the two of them, but somehow he'd prepared enough for breakfast, lunch, and perhaps two snack opportunities.

Garry rapped his knuckles against the front door of the D'Amore estate, not bothering to ring the bell. He assumed they were expecting him, and quickly found he was correct when Ib's mother opened the door, beaming at him as Garry gratefully stepped into the entryway.

"Come right in," Mrs. D'Amore said kindly, closing the door after him. "Ib is almost ready. She'll be right down."

Garry returned her smile easily, folding his hands behind his back. "Lovely to see you, Genavieve."

"You as well, Mr. Contest Winner," Mrs. D'Amore grinned, squeezing his arm fondly. "Ib showed me as soon as she came home. We're all so proud of you, dear."

Heat crawled up into Garry's neck and jaw, and he awkwardly reached back to twirl a strand of longer hair behind his head. "Oh goodness, thank you… Really, though, it was only 3rd place. I feel almost like I blew it up to be much bigger than it was."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. D'Amore exclaimed adamantly, bracing her hands on her hips. "Getting your designs in a popular fashion magazine before you've even graduated is a massive accomplishment! Don't sell yourself short, young man, or you'll have to deal with me."

Garry chuckled into his hand. "Understood, ma'am."

Mrs. D'Amore offered a tender smile. "Have confidence in yourself. This might open many doors for you, Garry, so keep your eyes open for new opportunities." She playfully tousled Garry's hair. It was rather comedic, as she was a good foot shorter than him. "Do that, and I have no doubt that you'll go far."

For a fleeting moment, Garry's chest tightened with a sort of melancholy contentment. After two years, it was hard _not_ to view Mrs. D'Amore as a mother figure to him, especially since his own mother had been so lacking in so-called 'motherly affection'. Ib's mother was everything his own was not, and although sometimes it was painful, mostly it was just beautiful. Her support and affection for him was greatly appreciated, even if he felt he was long past the age of needing such things.

"Thank you. Really." Garry answered, perhaps too softly, but Mrs. D'Amore didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

Their conversation was disturbed by the lively patter of small footsteps clacking down the grand staircase. Garry turned to watch Ib descend the stairs. The little girl was dressed in an adorably baggy blue and white striped shirt that loosely hung off of her shoulders, black straps hugging her collarbone underneath. Her shorts were daffodil yellow, matching the sunhat that she was holding tightly to her head so it didn't fly off in her hurry, and under the hat her hair was beautifully braided and hanging over her left shoulder. Garry swelled with adoration at how adorable and fashion-savvy the little girl could be.

Ib jumped off the last step, flashing both Garry and her mother a warm smile. "Hello, Garry."

"Hello, Ib. You certainly look ready for adventure, don't you?"

Ib beamed and gave a small twirl before running over to them, her pink sandals clicking against the marble floor. Her mother patted the top of her hat, smiling down at her. "Don't rush off, now. I have your canteens in the kitchen, I'll go fetch them."

"Thanks, mama," Ib said as Mrs. D'Amore left them, walking off toward the kitchen with purpose. Garry leaned over and held his knees, grinning at his little friend.

"Who braided your hair?" Garry asked curiously, reaching out to touch the near-flawless plait. Ib grinned proudly.

"I did," she said, her pale cheeks flushed with pride. Garry often thought it was marvelous how easily color bloomed in Ib's face. She didn't need to exert much energy at all to achieve a lovely blush on her cheeks, and it never ceased to make her look like a delicate doll. "Mama showed me how, and I've been practicing. Does it look okay?"

"It's absolutely lovely!" Garry announced, his brows raising above his fringe. "I never would have guessed. It looked professionally done."

"Garry's hair is getting long," Ib observed, motioning for him to come closer. Garry leaned in further to allow Ib access to the small ponytail protruding from the base of his head, holding a tuft of wavy purple hair in place. "You couldn't put it up like this before, right?"

"Ah, I might need a trim soon," Garry answered apologetically. "I just pulled it back on account of how warm it is today. Not to mention, it's gotten long enough to tickle my neck, and that drives me crazy."

Ib smiled. "I like it, though."

"Really?" Garry stood up straight, reaching back to play with his hair absently. "Hm, maybe I won't be so hasty, then."

Heels clicked against the floor, marking Mrs. D'Amore's return. "Alright you two," she started, handing Ib a small red bag patterned with white flowers, "I packed tea and juice. I hope that will be enough."

"That sounds lovely, thank you," Garry smiled. "Ib, would you like me to carry it?"

Ib shook her head, clutching the bag's strap in her hands. "No, I can do it."

Garry nodded. "That's fine, then. Shall we be off?" Ib nodded, smiling. Mrs. D'Amore pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek, and patted Garry's arm fondly.

"Have fun! Take care of each other!" she chimed.

.

.

.

Neither Garry nor Ib enjoyed large groups of people. Garry wasn't antisocial by any means - quite the opposite, in most cases - but he enjoyed quietude, and more recently in his life, he liked it best when he could spend time with Ib without the stares and voices of nosy passersby. Ib, on the other hand, enjoyed silence in every way and for every reason. She was quiet by nature, and thrived best when she was only interacting with one or two people at a time. Any more than that and she tended to fade into the background. Garry knew this, and so he usually tried to make sure their time spent together was as solitary as possible. They hadn't visited the lake on a Saturday in some time, so it was only slightly jarring when they arrived to find a few dozen people also enjoying time near the water.

"It's fine," Ib said, although she looked vaguely disappointed. "Can we sit somewhere a little further up the bank, though?"

Despite their initial reluctance, they'd found a lovely little spot under a massive oak tree up the bank with a perfect view of the lake. Garry laid out the blankets, Ib poured them some juice, and they settled in, Ib stealing a spot between Garry's knees as he sat back, letting the breeze flutter through his hair.

"You know, I was unhappy that there were so many people down by the lake, but I believe we got the sweet end of the deal. The breeze up here feels so nice, I could sit here all day…"

Ib sipped her juice, leaning her head against Garry's knee. "Mm. I like it, too. We can come back soon when there aren't so many people around."

"Of course. We'll have to come back as much as we can before fall." Garry took a drink from his cup of juice, less because he was thirsty, more because Ib went to the trouble of pouring it for him. He set his cup aside, gently playing with Ib's hair from behind. "You know what? We should try and go swimming before then, too." Ib's head turned only slightly to toss him a look of complete and utter disinterest and Garry chuckled. "Ah, sorry. You're not a big fan of swimming, I forgot."

Ib shook her head. "It tires me out. But if it's with Garry, I wouldn't mind."

 _Cute_. Garry held the little girl's shoulders, rocking her gently back and forth. "That won't do. I'd much rather do something that Ib enjoys, too."

The little girl didn't often laugh, but Garry could tell she was enjoying herself by the way she leaned back into him. Garry stole a wary look around them before hugging Ib's small shoulders from behind, resting his chin on the top of her sunhat. He couldn't tell why, but lately he felt like he hadn't been able to spend as much time with her as usual. He knew he'd been extra busy with school lately, and work had been taking up much of his time, as well. Now that he didn't have work to worry about, there was no reason he couldn't make more time for his dear friend. It was a good distraction, anyway. Much better than wallowing in self-pity.

After a comfortable time of silence, Garry pulled away. He knew better than to hang all over a 11-year old girl in public, especially when there were so many people who fancied visiting the lake today. Ib never seemed to care about those sorts of things, and that was apparent when the little girl turned her head to throw him a small pout. Garry responded by tapping her button nose with the pad of his finger.

"Now, now. Are you hungry, Ib? I made a little too much food for us today, but that just means there's plenty to choose from!"

.

.

.

They'd eaten the sandwiches Garry had made, and right afterwards Ib's sunhat had flown off her head, resulting in a frantic chase all over the lakeside until the article was retrieved, which in turn resulted in their hunger returning. They were now shamelessly snacking on crackers, cheese and fruit, Ib's sunhat pinned under Garry's bag so as the incident would not recur. Ib laid on her stomach, nibbling on a cracker as Garry sat in front of her, cross-legged, drinking a deep gulp of tea. He set the tea aside to go after the last strawberry. He wordlessly offered it to Ib, popping it in his mouth only when he received a dissenting head-shake from the girl.

"How is Scarlet?" Ib asked curiously, swinging her feet in the air.

"Scarlet has been well, naturally! He's been helping out a lot with my designs lately. He's become sort of a good-luck charm, I think. I can always focus better when he's around to cheer me on."

Ib looked pleased. "I'm glad."

Garry laughed through his nose, leaning back on his hands. "You know, I don't think I ever mentioned it, but… Your mom and dad weren't very happy when they saw you gave him to me. You hadn't told me at the time that he'd been custom-made for you, so they were a little hesitant to let me leave with him."

Ib blinked at him, crossing her ankles in the air. "Really? They never said anything." She touched a finger to her chin, her eyes rolling upward. "I kind of remember mama asking me about it, though. I guess she was making sure I wouldn't be sad about it later."

"You _were_ pretty sleepy at that point," Garry pointed out, chuckling.

As the two fell into another comfortable silence filled only by the crunching of savory crackers, Garry contemplated how to tell Ib the truth about his job. He felt horribly foolish for letting something so silly go on for so long - in the grand scheme of things, getting fired wasn't a terribly dramatic event. It inconvenienced him, certainly, but keeping it a secret from her only served to inconvenience him further. He only worried because of how concerned the little girl was sure to become. He wanted to tell her the truth, but his compulsion to keep Ib safe and happy made him want to conceal anything remotely negative about his life. Still, he couldn't stand not being honest with her.

"Say, Ib-"

A buzzing in Garry's back pocket interrupted his thought, making him jump in alarm. He let out a long breath, gripping a hand over his heart before producing his phone from his pocket. "Ah, sorry, Ib. Hang on a second…" He flipped his phone open, reading the number. Or in this case, the lack thereof. In place of a number was the word "UNKNOWN".

"Huh… Uhm, I'm going to take this, Ib. It might be school. Wait for me right here, okay?"

Ib sat up, sitting on her legs. She nodded stoically. Garry smiled at her apologetically. "Thanks, Ib. I'll only be a minute." Garry got up, walking away just enough to be out of earshot before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Garry Edmonds speaking?" an unfamiliar male voice spoke softly. Garry turned, keeping a watchful eye on Ib as he leisurely paced in front of the public water fountains. A nearby family was laughing and their children were shouting, prompting Garry to plug his free ear with his finger.

"Yes, this is he," Garry answered, a twinge of anxiety flaring inside him. Being a broke adult usually meant that phone calls from strangers who knew your full name were something to avoid whenever possible. "May I ask who's calling, please?"

"I'm calling from the desk of Mr. Rune White, HR manager of Wahre Kunst. Are you familiar with the company?"

Garry didn't deal well with surprises, and currently he was struggling to keep hold of his phone and stay upright at the same time. His first thought was that this was some horrible prank, but he didn't really know anyone cruel enough to pull something of this caliber.

"O-of _course_ I'm familiar, Wahre Kunst is one of the leading fashion design companies in the world…! Ahh, how can I, uhm, help you today?" Garry glanced back at their spot under the tree, watching Ib sip her tea gingerly.

"I won't take too much of your time, Mr. Edmonds. Your design in the latest issue of Trend caught the attention of our company, and we're interested in interviewing you for a possible internship."

There were few moments in Garry's life - _very_ few - when he was positive there were hidden cameras fixed on him, but this was one of those moments. He'd never actually been the victim of a hidden camera type scenario, but his brain's first assumption was _this can't be real, there's no way this is real._

After the logic center of his mind kicked in, Garry very nearly felt like he'd been doused with freezing cold water. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his feet rooted into the grass and earth under him.

"W-w-w-wha-" Garry tried to quickly pull himself together, and only minimally succeeded. "T-that is to say, uhm, ahh… I'm sorry, I have to admit, you've taken me a little off guard, and…"

"There's never a way to ease into something like this, I'm afraid. Letters and emails are the popular choices, but Mr. White is only going to be in your area for a short time, so time is not exactly a luxury. We need to hurry and set something up."

"S-set something up?" Garry repeated numbly. "Set _what_ up…?"

"The appointment," the man answered coolly. "Mr. White would like to interview you sooner rather than later. Is there a time next week that works for you?"

Garry felt distinctly as though he could throw up. Every ounce of composure he claimed flew out of him through the tips of his fingers, leaving him in a cold sweat. This _couldn't_ be real, could it? Things never happened this easily, nothing in his life ever came as easily as this. It would be convenient to think that perhaps his time had finally arrived, but Garry couldn't accept something so outrageous so readily.

"Wh- I- Well-" Garry cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. "Wahre Kunst is in Spain, r-right? There's no _way_ I could-"

"Mr. White will be in your city next week for a fashion event. I know this is all a little sudden and… well, frankly _unusual_ , but Mr. White has never been particularly interested in the right or wrong way to go about things. You won't be his only interview next week, but I _can_ tell you it would be in your best interest to meet with him."

"R-right, of course!" Garry patted his back pocket in hopes that he had a pad of paper with him, but realized rather quickly that he hadn't thought to bring things like that to the lake. "Ahh, sorry, I'm not at home now so I don't really have anything… to…" He paused, rubbing his face. "This isn't a joke or anything, right?"

The voice on the phone snorted amusedly. "Next Saturday at 4pm, Mr. Edmonds. I can email you the details later, just be sure to get back in touch with me asap to confirm the appointment."

"Yes! That sounds great, I uh… That sounds great, really great."

"I'll email you shortly. 'Be there or be square', as they say."

Garry's hand was shaking as he swept some of his hair away from his eyes. "I'll definitely be there, wherever it is! Ah, thank you for calling, and for the opportunity."

"You'll have to thank Mr. White when you meet him." the man said. "You'll be hearing from me soon, Mr. Edmonds."

"Y-yeah. Goodbye."

Garry held the phone to his ear long after he heard the click of a lost connection. He slowly lowered it, checking the screen just to make sure he had actually been talking to someone and not just having some sort of insane fantasy brought on by an intense fear of failure.

He closed his phone and slipped it into his pocket, raking his fingers through his purple mop. How could he possibly process something like this? Right after Mrs. D'Amore had spoke to him of opportunities and opening doors… He couldn't believe one silly little design of his had garnered the interest of such a renowned fashion empire as Wahre Kunst; what were the _chances_?

No, _no_. Garry took a deep breath through his lips and let it out slowly through his nose, seeking to calm down his racing heart and shaking hands. He couldn't get his hopes up, and at this point he couldn't even clarify what just happened as legitimate. He took another deep breath. Another. Once he felt significantly calmer, Garry realized he'd momentarily forgotten to keep an eye on Ib. He turned toward their blanket under the tree and his heart promptly plummeted into his stomach.

Ib wasn't there. The blanket was empty aside from their bags, food and Ib's hat. Garry paled, his throat squeezing shut. In a panic his eyes darted around the area, overly aware of every flash of brown hair, every yellow and blue.

He spotted her quickly and almost choked on his relief. She was standing a mere 3 meters from their spot under the tree, stray wisps of her soft chestnut hair catching in the breeze. His relief was gone in an instant when he saw that a middle-aged woman was speaking with Ib urgently, a hand circled tightly around Ib's arm. Ib appeared to be trying to pull back toward their blanket, but the woman held her fast, continuing to talk.

Garry strode over to the scene with speed he hadn't been aware he possessed, his long legs getting him there in record time. At his approach, the woman looked up, keeping a firm hold on Ib's arm, her expression stony and judgmental. Garry knew that look, and he knew what was likely happening before he'd even managed to grab the woman by the wrist and fling her hand off of Ib with uncharacteristic recklessness.

"Who are you?" Garry demanded, trying hard to keep calm despite his pulse pounding loudly in his ears. Ib pressed hard to his side, gripping his sleeve. "What is it you want?"

The woman shot Garry a glare and then turned up her nose at him as though he hadn't addressed her. She looked back at Ib, her expression softening. "Little girl, do you want to be with this man? Is he related to you?"

Garry felt his blood boil. _Related_. Why did it always come down to blood? What good did DNA do anyone with unfeeling parents, or abusive siblings? Drunk grandfathers? Handsy uncles? Garry had never seen the importance of blood, though he knew his opinion was slightly sullied by his own personal experiences.

Ib nodded, but said nothing. It wasn't unheard of for Ib to speak to strangers if the occasion called for it, so her silence confirmed that this woman had more-or-less ambushed Ib with her obnoxious good intentions. The fact that she'd grabbed her - even if she'd felt justified in it - only helped to further cocoon Ib within her silence. Garry put his arm around her shoulders protectively.

"I'm her _guardian_ ," Garry announced, struggling to keep his anger at bay. Ib didn't like it when he got angry, and quite frankly neither did he. "She's perfectly safe with me, thank you for your _rather bold_ concern."

The woman crossed her arms, giving Garry the faint impression that she wasn't planning on scurrying back to her own dull business anytime soon. "Her guardian? How old are you, 19, 20? Too young to be a girl's _legal_ guardian, I'd wager."

 _Wow. Do you_ _ **really**_ _have nothing better to do this fine afternoon, you old hag?_ Garry bit down his fury and forced a polite smile. "Well, you see, I am a close family friend of this girl's parents. Believe it or not, guardians can come in all shapes and sizes. And ages, as well." he said, unable to keep his voice from dripping with sarcasm.

"There's no need to get _cheeky_ ," the woman sneered. Her next words were hushed, as though Ib were deaf to loud whispers. "Anyone would be suspicious. You look as though you're on a _date_ with this young lady."

Garry's stomach coiled into a knot. Enjoying lunch with a treasured friend on a nice day… How could someone cheapen it so _thoroughly_ without even trying? It wasn't just that she'd called it a 'date' - Ib had called their outings as such for some time now - it was the implications breathing under the woman's words. Making it sound like it was something dirty and underhanded.

"Again, thank you _so much_ for your concern," Garry continued as if he hadn't heard. "We'll let you get back to your day, if you'd be so kind as to let us get back to ours." The woman glowered at him, which almost gave Garry a wild sense of satisfaction. She turned one last time to Ib, who instinctively gripped Garry's sleeve harder in her fingers.

"Little girl, do you _really_ want to be with this man?"

 _Goodness me, I actually want to strike a woman_. Ib nodded again, more insistently this time.

"Are you sure? I can call-"

" _Leave us alone_!" Ib suddenly shouted, as though she'd been suppressing those three words the entire conversation long. The woman's brows shot up above her bangs in surprise and she flushed in humiliation. Garry felt a second surge of satisfaction, and he pressed the little girl's shoulder a little more securely into his side. Ib's voice had caught the attention of a couple walking by on their way to the lake, causing the woman to redden further and take a step away.

"Sorry to have bothered you, then," the woman murmured curtly before turning and hurrying away from them. Garry and Ib watched her go, making absolutely sure she was gone. Ib stuffed her face against Garry's arm, taking a deep breath.

"Ib, _goodness_ , are you alright?" Garry carefully pried her from his arm and knelt down on one knee in front of her, inspecting her face. In the back of his mind, Garry remembered a time when he could kneel down like this and be eye-level with the little girl. Now, she was at least half a head taller than his own. Ib looked down at him with a cool expression, though her eyes were glossy and her cheeks were tinged red. She nodded slowly.

Garry reached up to gently touch her cheek, but his hand halted halfway. He hated how these sorts of altercations put seeds of worry in his mind, and he _especially_ hated how the accusations of others could make him feel so… dirty.

He lowered his hand. Ib's expression wilted slightly. "I'm sorry that happened, Ib. I should have been there, I shouldn't have taken that call and left you alone."

Ib shook her head. "You didn't leave me alone. You were really close."

Garry smiled sadly. "Yes, but I hadn't been watching very closely, I'm afraid." He closely inspected Ib's arm, noting the pink stripes on the girl's otherwise pale skin where the woman's fingers had been. Where did she get off, grabbing a little girl this hard under the pretense of _helping_ her? "That must have been scary."

Again, Ib shook her head. "It wasn't scary." she said decidedly. "It made me angry."

"Angry?" Garry tilted his head at the girl, remembering what she'd said the other day in the cafe about her therapist. "My, frustrated before, angry today. I don't think I've ever heard you say those words out loud until recently." Despite himself, he chuckled. "Feeling that way is normal, though, so don't worry. I was quite angry myself. In fact, I'm quite sure I handled that situation rather poorly because of it…"

"I think you were fine," Ib said confidently. "That woman was very rude."

"Ah, well." Garry stood up, smiling reproachfully. "Although she was certainly a bit - _snippish_ \- her intentions were pure, I believe. So we shouldn't hold bitter feelings for her, kay? It's not healthy." _I really need to start taking my own advice._

Ib was motionless for a long moment, staring up at him with her usual indeterminable expression, though Garry thought he could see her lips twitching in displeasure.

"At any rate, perhaps we should pack up and-"

"No!" Ib exclaimed suddenly, grabbing one of Garry's hands. "Can we stay a little longer, please? I wasn't done eating the crackers and fruit, and I wanted to talk with you more… So… can we stay?"

Garry squeezed the girl's hand in his. "Oh, of _course_ we can! I'm sorry, Ib, I thought maybe you wouldn't want to stick around because of… Well, that doesn't matter. We'll stay as long as you like! I brought plenty of food, after all."

The little girl smiled up at him, and Garry thought he could feel his heart melt. Sometimes he suspected he could get by on Ib's smiles alone. So long as she was happy, he was happy, too. That's how it had always been between them.

Still gripping his hand in hers, Ib led them both back to their abandoned picnic blanket. As they sat down and once again got comfortable, Ib glanced at Garry with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

"Garry, who was on the phone before?"

The excitement, anxiety and panic from his earlier phone conversation hit Garry like a slap in the face. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten such big news so easily, though he supposed he'd had a pretty potent distraction. Furthermore, he'd had no time to digest the news, or even consider all of the implications. He hadn't gotten the chance to ask any follow-up questions, either. He wasn't even sure what sort of internship he was interviewing for, though for anyone attempting to work in the field, Wahre Kunst was a no-brainer. It was one of the most famous fashion companies in the world, but it was also half a world away. If he really was fortunate enough to earn a chance to work there, did that mean he'd have to leave? He wasn't sure he could fathom being so far away from Ib.

Garry smiled, pouring himself another cup of juice.

"Oh, it was just work, hon. Say, did you want some more juice?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garry, stop with the lies!! (」゜ロ゜)」Nothing good will come of it!
> 
> The main issue, I imagine, with Garry and Ib's friendship is that the two of them don't look even remotely related. I imagine that Ib exudes an upper-class air (although she'd never know the difference) and Garry - with his strange taste in clothing and wild, purple hair - looks more like a pauper in comparison. In other words, people don't tend to assume that they're siblings, much to Garry's absolute frustration. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! ✿°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°✿


	3. Ib

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ib deals with bullies, nightmares and maths, but not necessarily in that order.

A hand was circled tight around her wrist, fingers pressing into her pulse, leading her forward.

Ib couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say. All she could do was stumble forward, trying and failing to keep pace with the blonde head of wild hair swaying gently in front of her as they walked. The grip on her wrist intensified.

"Why was it blue? Why blue? Blue, bluuuuue, blue and red too~"

Ib looked down, her eyes focused on the ruined green material of Mary's dress, peppered with ash and soot. Her stomach flopped with guilt. Mary tugged insistently on her arm. Ib tried to catch up, but no matter what she did, she couldn't will her feet to move faster. Her bare feet tapped on the smooth floor, cold and uncomfortable, and when she next looked up she realized she was back in the museum, empty frames hanging haphazardly on the walls above plaques with unreadable titles. She was forgetting something, something _important_ , but she couldn't focus long enough to make heads or tails of it.

"I started to wonder, but I just couldn't figure it out. It isn't fair. Not fair, not fair, not fair, _notfairnotfairnotfair_ _ **NOT FAIR**_."

Mary turned a corner, yanking Ib's arm and throwing the little girl into the wall. Ib hit the wall hard, crying out in pain as she fell to the ground. She struggled to sit up, her entire body quaking, glancing up to peek at the offending wall through her tousled brown fringe.

A large frame adorned the wall, the only one she'd seen with a painting inside. The man on the canvas looked sad but somehow tranquil, lying in a bed of blue roses. It was all so familiar, so melancholy, so heartrending that Ib wanted in equal parts to look away and to gaze at it forever. A pair of small, delicate hands covered her eyes from behind, and a chin dug into the bend of her shoulder.

"But it isn't your fault, Ib. Not really."

The hands pulled away, and Ib was somewhere new. Before her was a strange sculpture, a large black bed shaped like a diamond. Despite its imposing presence, Ib padded cautiously closer, mesmerized. Once again she felt that familiar pang of something indeterminable, the ghostly memory of a hand touching her shoulder protectively.

_Wait, Ib! This piece... it gives me a bad feeling. I think we should stay away._

Ib stopped her advance, holding her hands in fists at her sides. That voice, she was sure she'd heard it before. Why couldn't she remember?

"Ib... I don't want him to have you."

The little girl whirled around in surprise. Mary was standing behind her, her head down to hide a sorrowful expression. She was completely engulfed in flames, fire licking her hair and fingers, the hem of her dress slowly blackening. Ib opened her mouth but no sound emerged.

"You need to leave. He still wants you, but you can't let him bring you back here, okay? If he brings you back, you'll be stuck here forever. So please leave, and don't ever come back."

There were so many things Ib wanted to say, but her mouth wouldn't produce the words. She wanted to apologize, she wanted to cry, but instead she walked toward the burning girl, extending her hands to clasp Mary's in her own. She didn't mind burning with her, if that would make Mary feel better.

Mary's lips pulled into a sad smile. "I'm still mad at you, you know," she said, trembling, "but we're still friends, right? Friends hurt each other and get mad at each other, and then they forgive each other. So..."

The moment Ib's fingers touched the top of Mary's hand, the flames ebbed, dissolving Mary in an instant. Ib fell to the floor, landing hard on her knees, her hands sinking into a pile of hot, smoking embers.

.

.

.

Waking from a nightmare was a lot like coming up for air after being deep underwater for too long, Ib had come to find. She never had nightmares before the museum. Now, she felt like she could write books on the subject.

Ib held her hands tightly over her mouth, desperately drawing ragged breaths in through her nose and the gaps between her fingers. Over the last couple of years she'd gotten in the habit of throwing her hands over her mouth when she woke like this, to stifle any possible scream. She wasn't sure if she'd screamed tonight, but it was better not to risk waking her parents to another night terror that she couldn't possibly explain.

Her hands dropped to her sides, and slowly she grabbed the sheets she'd apparently flung off of herself during the night, pulling them back up over her legs. She was still trembling. The details of the dream were slipping away from her the longer she tried to recall them. Ib remembered Mary, she remembered the empty paintings. She remembered a large, black object that felt like it was calling to her. Mary was burning. Again, she was burning.

Tears stung at Ib's eyes, and the little girl scrubbed them on the back of her arm. She rubbed feeling back into her upper arms, trying to stop shaking. Although the details of the dream were quickly fading, the emotions it evoked were still thick in the air.

_Sadness and fear. Like something bad is going to happen._

Ib glanced at her pink bunny desk clock. The digital time gleamed 12:10am. She wanted to call Garry, just to hear his voice, but she didn't want to trouble him so late at night; he often stayed up too late working on designs or projects for school, and though he always insisted he was fine, Ib could sometimes see the dark rings under his eyes when he hadn't gotten enough sleep.

_Or maybe he's still having nightmares like me._

Pulling the covers up around her shoulders, Ib laid back down and huddled into a protective ball, stuffing her face into her pillow. She wanted to see Garry. Only he could alleviate this suffocating feeling in her chest.

Ib closed her eyes and tried to think of pleasant things. Often times, to lull herself back to sleep, she would focus on the day she and Garry reunited after they had escaped Guertena's exhibit. They had agreed to meet at the cafe near her house. It was a warm, cloudy day. Garry returned her handkerchief as he'd promised, and they'd eaten so many macaroons Ib swore her tummy was swollen afterwards. They talked. About everything, about Mary, about life. About the horrors they'd seen. They'd learned a lot about each other that day, but mostly they learned that they didn't want to be apart ever again.

Focusing hard on that lovely day at the cafe, Ib allowed herself to drift back to sleep.

.

.

.

"Ib, did you sleep well last night?" Her mother brushed aside some of Ib's bangs, inspecting her face. "Your eyes look tired, darling."

Ib nodded, turning back to her breakfast once her mother had released her. She took a bite of her toast, chewing carefully. Her mother sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"Are you feeling well?" she asked, and the little girl nodded again, taking another bite with an appetizing slice of salted avocado. From beside her on the counter, the TV was playing a dishwashing liquid commercial, distracting Ib from her thoughts with it's annoyingly catchy jingle.

"Do you have your books?" her father asked from the other end of the table, sipping his coffee. Ib nodded a third time. He gave her a patient smile. "You really do look a little peakish, dear. If you start feeling even the least bit sick, you'll tell us right away, won't you?"

Ib swallowed, nodding. "Yes, papa."

"Finish your fruit," her mother reminded, dropping her car keys on the counter beside the TV. "I wonder if you're getting enough vitamin C sometimes."

"That's vitamin E I think, honey." her father chuckled.

Ib's mother turned to her husband, anchoring a hand on her hip. "Isn't that the one you get from sunlight, or…? You know what, it doesn't matter. She needs more vitamins, period. If it weren't for her outings with Garry, I'm quite sure she wouldn't see the sun at all."

"It's too hot outside," Ib put in softly, obediently stabbing a piece of pineapple with her fork and bringing it to her lips. "I don't like it when it's so hot. It makes me tired."

"I know, sweetie. As long as Garry gets you out and about sometimes, I'm content." Her mother smoothed a hand over the little girl's long fall of hair. "Finish your breakfast, and I'll drive you to school, okay?"

.

.

.

Ib couldn't particularly say that she disliked school, but she didn't particularly like it, either. She enjoyed routine, and she liked to learn, but she had never gotten along well with other children and she was hopeless at socializing. Before Garry, her friendships had been superficial and fleeting. A 'friend' was someone she's spoken to more than twice, who didn't make fun of her for being too quiet or for her odd-colored eyes. She was fine with that. She'd never been too keen on friends in the first place, and after meeting Garry, she didn't feel like she needed anything more.

Dr. Marshall and her parents disagreed on that point.

" _It isn't healthy for a girl your age to not have any friends, Ib. You need connections, you need some form of socialization."_

" _I have Garry. Garry is my friend."_

" _Ib… I'm glad that you two get on so well, but… You need a friend your own age. A school mate, you know? That might be fun if you gave it a try."_

The result of that conversation, and all others like it, was Jennifer.

Jennifer Abel was the daughter of a family friend, and she was in the same grade as Ib. They were introduced at a dinner party and urged to be friends, which may not have worked out so well if Jennifer hadn't been so friendly and understanding of Ib's quiet nature. Though their friendship had been rather forced initially, it evolved naturally enough. Jennifer was patient with her, much like Garry was. She demanded very little, and for Ib, that was perfect. She liked Jennifer, even if they didn't have very much in common.

"Ib!" Standing outside the school gates, a girl with short honey blonde hair was waving at her. Ib offered a tame wave in return, and Jennifer ran to meet her, her face lit up with excitement.

"Good morning!" Jennifer chimed, holding her school bag in both hands and bobbing it against her knees. "Did you have fun at the lake? Me and my parents went on Sunday, but we didn't see you!"

"Ah, we went on Saturday," Ib answered. "It was really busy."

"It was, wasn't it?" Jennifer sighed, playing with some of the hair that was curled gently over her cheek. "I like it better when it's quiet."

"Me too."

"You went with Garry, right?" Jennifer asked as the girls began a slow walk toward the gates. "Did you two have fun?"

Ib's mind flashed to the irritating woman that had accosted her and her brow subconsciously scrunched in distaste. She tried to push the incident to the back of her mind and focus on the rest of the trip.

"Mm. It was really hot, but we found a shady place under a tree, so it wasn't so bad."

Jennifer hummed wistfully. "Ib, you're so lucky. I have a big brother who never takes me _anywhere_."

Ib tilted her head. "Garry's not my brother, though."

"I _know_ that, but that's basically how it is, right?" Jennifer giggled. "I always imagined it was like that, since he was older than you."

Ib locked her eyes on the pavement under them, pinching her lips together. Why did everyone keep saying things like that? Why did it have to be 'called' something? Why did others insist on imposing their own idea of what their relationship was?

"Oh! I almost forgot." Jennifer stepped in front of Ib, holding out her hands. "Hold on a minute, Ib. Before we go in, there was something I wanted to show you!"

Ib blinked curiously as Jennifer opened her bag and fished around inside of it. A moment later, Jennifer pulled her hand out, her fingers curled into her palm.

"Have you seen these yet? They're getting really popular! A shop by my house sells them, so I stopped by on my way to school." Jennifer opened her hand, revealing a pair of small, detailed ceramic roses, identical in every way except for color. Ib couldn't claim that roses didn't remind her of the gallery and her experiences there, but it was not exactly a negative association. If anything, roses made her feel safe. It was hard to dislike something that had once symbolized your very life and soul. Still, seeing the pair of tiny roses in Jennifer's hand unsettled her.

"They're pretty." Ib said simply.

"Right?" Jennifer beamed. "Lots of people are using them as a sort of good luck charm. They come in all sorts of colors, too! The rumor is, if you keep your rose in good condition, you'll be really lucky! They're ceramic, though, so that's kinda difficult… People are already coming up with ways to keep them safe, like putting clear nail polish on them." The girl carefully plucked the red rose from her palm, extending it toward Ib. "Anyway, I got one for you, Ib! I got the red one to match your eyes, and I got pink for myself so we wouldn't both have the same color."

Ib glanced at the gift and then at Jennifer, her eyes round and vaguely confused. "For… me?"

Jennifer laughed. "Sure, why not?"

Ib slowly and carefully took the rose from Jennifer, holding it between her fingers. "No one's ever given me a gift before. No one but Garry and my parents."

"Really?" Jennifer smiled sadly. "Hope I didn't make you uncomfortable, then."

Ib shook her head, holding the charm to her chest. "No, not at all. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" Jennifer turned her own rose around to show Ib the back side. "And look, they're pins! They make strap versions too, but I know you don't have a cellphone, so…"

"It's perfect," Ib smiled, glancing at her own. It really _was_ very cute. Despite how glad she was to receive a gift from her friend, the superstition surrounding the charms unnerved her. It was too close for comfort. She knew well and good that such a fad likely had no merit to it whatsoever, but that fact didn't exactly sooth her.

"How does it look?" Jennifer asked, already having pinned her rose to the left side of her breast pocket. She leaned forward with a cheeky grin to show it off.

"Lovely," Ib answered with a soft smile, pinning her own in the same spot. Somehow, she couldn't help but feel nostalgic.

.

.

.

"Ib, can I have a moment before you leave?"

Some of the other children whispered amusedly as they passed Ib's desk. Ib's attention was solely focused on Mr. Kirkland at the head of the classroom, nodding to him wordlessly as she scooped her things into her school bag. As the other students filed out of the room, Ib slung her bag over her shoulder and marched to her teacher's desk, standing quietly in wait as Mr. Kirkland took a seat in his chair, flashing her a smile.

"You're not in trouble or anything," he assured, though Ib already assumed she wasn't, "I just wanted to run something interesting by you. There's a maths competition coming up in July. Lots of local schools will be involved, and I've been chosen as one of the coordinators. I'm tasked with putting together a small team to create a game that utilizes unusual solutions to mathematical problems." Mr. Kirkland tapped his pen against the desk sharply twice. "Does that sound like something you might be interested it, Ib?"

Ib stared at her teacher, and then down at her feet. "It's a… competition?"

"Well, it's more of an event, I suppose. A team from each school will be constructing their own game, but they _will_ be judged at the end for creativity and playability. It's meant to be fun, Ib… I wouldn't have asked if I felt it was outside your abilities. You excel at maths, and I've known you to be quite creative, as well. I think you'd have a lot of fun."

Absently chewing on her bottom lip, Ib's gaze flicked up to regard Mr. Kirkland with uncertainty. "A maths game? That's what we'd be doing?"

Mr. Kirkland nodded, lacing his fingers together, his pen sticking up between the gap near his thumb. "It can be anything; a boardgame, card game, a scavenger hunt… As long as it incorporates non-conventional maths, it's accepted. Sound like fun?"

Ib wasn't sure how to answer. It did sound fun, and she did enjoy maths. Contrariwise, the idea of working with other students and competing against other schools sounded jarring. After a lengthy silence of contemplation, Mr. Kirkland waved his hand in the air, smiling understandingly. "How about you think about it, okay? There's still another week before I have to turn in the names of my team." He stood up from his chair, rapping his knuckles against the desktop. "We'll talk about it in another couple of days, okay?"

Ib nodded stiffly, gripping her bag's strap a little more tightly.

.

.

.

"A maths competition?" Jennifer asked, walking backwards. She'd caught Ib just as soon as she'd left Mr. Kirkland's classroom, and the two of them were heading toward the North side of the school, where Ib and Jennifer's parents usually picked them up. "That sounds like fun, Ib!"

 _That's what Mr. Kirkland said_ , Ib thought.

"You're so good at maths, too. You could probably carry the team yourself!"

Ib wasn't sure how she felt about it yet. The idea was still sitting with her, making her stomach hurt with either anxiety or excitement, she wasn't sure. "I don't know." she said quietly.

"Ib, you're so shy." Jennifer giggled. "It could be hard working with others, but it sounds less like a competition and more like a game, you know?"

Ib hummed listlessly. Even if it was a game, it sounded like something that would end up drawing lots of attention. Just the thought of having to work and converse with classmates-

"Oof-!" Something hard ran into Ib's shoulder, knocking her off balance. She stumbled, and just when she'd caught herself she was shoved by a pair of hands from behind, sending her crashing to her knees. The little girl hissed in pain and rolled onto her side, bringing her knee to her stomach and holding it in her hands.

" _Hey_!" Jennifer yelled furiously, just as a chorus of asinine laughter erupted from behind. Ib popped an eye open to see Jennifer rushing to her as a group of four children surrounded her in a semi-circle. Two of them were in her class. Neither of them liked her.

" _Sorry_ ," the boy said sarcastically. "I didn't see you there, as usual."

The girl next to him flipped some raven hair over her shoulder and giggled. "It's because she's always so quiet. It's freaky."

Jennifer flashed them an icy look. "Ib, are you okay?" she asked. Ib said nothing. She focused on the pain in her knee, embarrassed that Jennifer was involved in such a silly incident.

"She's _always_ fine," the boy jeered, stepping forward to kick Ib's bag. Jennifer grabbed for the strap, but one of the other boys stomped on it and bent over to pull it out of her grasp. "Nothing ever bothers this one. Never even says a word. What a freak."

"How can you even be friends with someone like that?" said the other girl to Jennifer, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you just feel sorry for her or something?"

"That must be it," the first boy crowed, "she feels sorry for her!"

Ib lowered her head, managing to sit up with Jennifer's help. To her surprise, Jennifer laughed sharply. "The only one I feel sorry for is _you_ ," she spat angrily. "If putting others down is the only way you can feel good about yourself, then your life must be pretty sad."

The children laughed, but they looked vaguely uncomfortable. Ib nearly smiled. She could tell they weren't used to witty responses of any variety.

"You _bitch_ ," the first boy sneered, " _you're_ just as much of a freak as _she_ is. You think I'm afraid to hit a girl?"

" _IB_!"

A sudden concerned voice halted all six children, blowing their collective gazes toward a young man with purple hair jogging over to them. He wore a grey jacket over a white and black striped shirt and white-washed skinny jeans - not exactly the picture of intimidation, but his fierce expression was enough to worry anyone. The four bullies traded worried looks and started to fidget, clearly torn on whether or not leaving the scene would make them look more or less guilty. When finally they decided to turn tail, Garry's voice cut through them like a knife.

"Stay _RIGHT_ where you are!" he shouted, freezing all of them in their tracks. Garry dropped down on Ib's other side, looking her over worriedly. "Ib, what happened? Are you okay?"

Ib stared at Garry mutely for a moment, watching his expression. It was always amazing how such trivial everyday instances could elicit the same worry in his eyes as when they were trapped in the Fabricated World. She nodded. "I'm fine."

"You are _not_ fine!" Garry insisted, his gaze falling to her grazed knee. He flashed a furious look at the offending children, standing up at his full height, which for an elementary-aged child was an intimidating 6 feet. "Who do you think you are, injuring another student like this? Your teachers will hear about this, and your parents, too. I want names, _now_."

"Garry, it's okay," Ib said, standing up with Jennifer's help. She tugged at his jacket, looking up at him with imploring eyes.

Garry looked down at her, his expression softening. "But, Ib…"

"Please?" Ib asked quietly. Garry sighed. He turned back to the children.

"It's your lucky day, I suppose." He eyed the bag one of the boys was still holding, and stepped forward, outstretching his hand. " _Bag_."

The boy unhesitatingly threw the bag into Garry's hands. Garry glared at them, and all of them immediately shrank under his gaze. "If I hear you've been bothering Ib again, I'm not letting any of you off so easy again. Understood?" he demanded. The children averted their eyes, nodding with varying levels of cooperation. Garry waved them off. "Fine. Out of my sight, then."

As the children scurried off, Garry whirled around, leaning over to hold Ib's face in his hands. "Ib, are you hurt anywhere else? Is it just the knee? Does it hurt very badly?" When Ib shook her head to each of his questions, Garry let out a long, relieved sigh. "That's good. We'll have to patch that knee up, though. It looks painful." Garry's attention moved to Jennifer, who was standing beside Ib, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. "Oh! Forgive me, miss, we haven't met yet. I'm Garry. You must be Jennifer, correct?"

Jennifer nodded. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Nice to meet you as well," Garry answered cheerfully with a small bow. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

The girl shook her head. "No, they only pushed Ib."

Garry's expression darkened again, throwing a look over his shoulder in the direction they'd gone. "Horrible little punks. Ib, you really should have let me handle it… They don't deserve to get away with treating you like that."

 _There's no sense in telling anyone. It never changes anything_. Ib's hand sought for the hem of Garry's jacket again, gripping it loosely in her fingers. She felt tired. She suspected she hadn't gotten enough sleep after all. "Garry, why are you here?" Ib asked curiously.

Garry seemed to snap out of his momentary vexation, glancing down at the little girl with a smile. "Ah, right. I asked your mom if I could pick you up today. I thought you could do your homework at my place, and I could make us dinner as well." He tilted his head at her curiously. "Does that sound like a plan?"

Ib thought she could feel her muscles simultaneously relax from relief. She'd wanted to see Garry ever since she woke up from her nightmare. She nodded eagerly, and he patted her head, swinging her school bag over his shoulder. He turned his attention back to Jennifer. "Thank you for helping earlier. Ib's told me what a good friend you are to her, so I'm happy to see it for myself."

Out of the corner of Ib's vision, she saw Jennifer go rather rigid, as though she'd been called on to answer a question she didn't understand. Was this… nervousness?

"It's no problem," Jennifer said, her face unusually rosy, "I really like Ib. We have fun together."

Garry grinned. "I'm glad. I'd invite you as well, but I'm sure your parents wouldn't agree to such a strange thing so suddenly."

Jennifer waved her hands, flustered. "N-no really, that's okay! I have a piano lesson after this, so I'd have to decline anyway."

"I see." Garry glanced down at Ib, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Ib, can your knee wait until we get to my apartment, or would you rather clean it up at school?"

"I can wait," Ib said. Her day had left her tired and with a myriad of anxious feelings fluttering in her stomach, and she was eager to leave. Garry must have noticed, because she felt his fingers grip her shoulder a bit more protectively.

"Right. Let's go, Ib."

Ib nodded, and raised her eyes to meet Jennifer's. The girl offered Ib a smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ib. Take care, mkay?"

Ib smiled back, glancing at the pink rose still pinned to Jennifer's shirt. Not everything had been tiring today, she realized.

"Mm. See you tomorrow. And, uhm, thank you."

_It's still such a curious thing, having "friends"._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garry will kick the crap out of a small child for Ib, don't even test him. Hell, he'll take on TWO he doesn't care, he's a MADMAN  
> My head-canon is that Ib is very good at maths. I mean, how else did she solve that number puzzle in the yellow area?? She was only 9, too! I doubt she had a pen and paper on her, so she did all that in her head. Girl’s got skill. (Skills that I, sadly, do not possess)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! ೭੧(❛▿❛✿)੭೨


	4. Garry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garry and Ib spend a typical evening together.

Garry hated seeing Ib in pain, and so he especially hated having to clean Ib's scraped knee with antiseptic. Ib's brow scrunched only minimally at the contact, her lips pinching together adorably, but that was all. She'd always been strong, and much braver than he.

"Does it hurt?" Garry asked worriedly. Ib shook her head. Garry gently wiped her knee with the cloth as the little girl sat perched on the edge of the couch, watching his progress carefully. "I'm almost done," Garry assured, squeezing some ointment onto his fingers and rubbing a thin layer onto the patch of thin, jagged red cuts running along the contour of the girl's knee. "You should at least tell your parents how this happened, Ib," Garry said as he peeled open a square bandage and smoothed it over the girl's knee. "They'll want to know, and you shouldn't lie."

Ib inspected the bandage, straightening out her leg and bending it again to test out its durability. "Thank you," she said.

Garry sighed. It was clear Ib wanted to move away from the subject, but Garry was too worried to give in. Still knelt in front of her, Garry took her hands in his, giving them a firm squeeze. "Ib… Have they been bothering you lately? More than usual? I told you to let me know, right?"

The little girl nibbled on her bottom lip, avoiding Garry's eyes. Garry felt immediately guilty for continuing to press the subject. After a time of silence, Garry cleared his throat. "Sorry Ib, I uhm… Well, I didn't mean to-"

"It's no worse than usual," Ib finally spoke softly. "If I ignore them, they usually go away quickly." She looked up to stare into Garry's eyes. Garry noticed for the first time today how tired she looked. More nightmares, perhaps? "So please, don't worry so much."

"Ah…" Garry pulled a hand away from hers to gently cup the side of her face. "I can't really help but worry, hon. Will you at least promise to tell me if it escalates? I don't mind picking you up from school more often."

Ib shook her head, her soft brown hair bouncing. "I don't want Garry to get in trouble with work." she said seriously. A familiar flare of guilt and urgency flickered, reminding him of half of the reason he'd called Ib's mother today.

"Actually, speaking of work…" Garry grinned in what he hoped was a carefree way, distracting himself by packing up the first-aid kit, "I don't work at the boutique anymore. I'll have more free-time, though, which will be nice, won't it?" He glanced at the little girl to gauge her reaction. Ib's face was the picture of surprise and worry, which is exactly what Garry had been hoping to prevent. "Things like this happen all the time, so-"

"What happened?" Ib asked, standing up and wringing her hands together at her chest. "How could they have fired you? What will you do now, Garry?"

"Ib, dear, calm down!" Garry stood, setting the first-aid kit aside and putting his hands on her shoulders. "I appreciate all the concern, but everything is going to be just fine, I promise. And I wasn't exactly 'fired'... The manager just couldn't afford to keep me, is all. I have enough saved up to get by for a little while, and there are plenty of opportunities out there! I'm sure something else will come along very soon. It's only a minor set-back!"

Ib stared up at him with intense suspicion burning in her eyes. Garry laughed and swept some flyaways from her face. "Please don't look like that, Ib. Everything really is fine, okay? Though, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I didn't want you to worry, but… Well, I suppose you'll worry no matter what, huh? I can't judge, considering I just did the same thing to you…"

Ib's expression changed into one of solemn determination. "I'll go job hunting with you!" the little girl declared, her small hands balling into fists. "It'll be easier than going alone, right?"

Garry stared down at the little girl, his heart doing a light cartwheel in his chest. His affection for her was always his greatest source of comfort, and she never ceased to amaze him with her sweet, caring tendencies. Who could ever bully such a pure and delicate person? "Would that make you feel better?" Garry asked fondly, tracing his knuckle along her cheek. She nodded, her expression still adorably fierce. Garry laughed and swept the girl into a hug. "Thank you, Ib. I'd like that." Ib gripped the back of his t-shirt, nuzzling her face into his stomach. Garry giggled. He spun on his heel, holding her tight as he landed on the couch, the old springs underneath the cushions whining in protest.

The little girl giggled into his shirt, the only indication being the soft twitching of her shoulders and the warm breath against his stomach. Garry gently pulled her into a better position, parting his knees to make room for her legs. Without further prompting she snuggled up against him, fitting her arms around his middle and resting her head on his chest. Garry smiled down at the top of her head, unable to stop himself from pressing a chaste kiss to her crown.

"I love you, Ib," Garry muttered into her hair. He'd never believed in those words before he'd met Ib. For some time after their reunion he'd questioned the acceptability of saying those words to a girl half his age who wasn't related to him by blood, but he'd stopped caring about conventional normalities some time ago. She meant the world to him. That was all that mattered.

A time passed in comfortable silence, Ib breathing steadily against him, Garry absently playing with the little girl's hair. When Garry realized Ib may have fallen asleep, he gently touched the girl's shoulder.

"Ib, how about you start your homework while I get dinner started, hm?"

Ib stirred, a hand raising to wipe her eyes. Had she been sleeping? So she _was_ tired after all…

"Are you alright?" Garry asked gently. Ib nodded, struggling to sit up in his lap. "Tired?" he ventured.

Ib nodded again. "Just a little."

"I see." Garry smiled. "Well, do your best, okay? Your mom and dad will scold me if your homework doesn't get done." He chuckled, patting the girl's head. "You'll wake up once you get going. In the meantime, I'm making us omelettes, so you have something really good to look forward to!"

.

.

.

_Dammit. Dammit, dammit double dammit._

Garry cradled the mixing bowl under his arm, whipping the eggs while staring intently at the slightly peeling wallpaper above the stove. He'd managed to tell Ib the truth about his job - admittedly a bigger stressor than being fired in the first place - and although he was relieved, there was the bigger matter of his interview with Mr. White on Thursday. He'd planned on telling her first thing, but the bully incident combined with Ib's concern over his job made it impossible. It wasn't such an easy thing to say as he'd hoped.

After he'd gotten the email from Mr. White's assistant, Garry took time to reflect on what an internship at Wahre Kunst would really mean. As an aspiring fashion designer, it was a mind-blowing opportunity. He'd be crazy to turn down the chance. He knew that, and still he couldn't imagine being apart from Ib, even if it was only for a few months. It was silly for a grown man to even consider turning down the chance of a lifetime just so he wouldn't have to leave an 11-year old girl, but here he was. Just the thought of telling Ib he would be moving to another country was enough to make him want to lose that assistant's email and never think about it again.

Garry poured the whipped eggs into the waiting skillet, and readied his spatula as the eggs sizzled in the pan. He sighed, fidgeting with the strings on his apron. Maybe it was a poor idea to tell her before anything had really progressed. He'd been granted a rare chance at an interview with a rep, but nothing had actually happened yet. What if he was worrying for nothing? What if he went to the interview and he was rejected? Rune White was undoubtedly a busy man, what if he simply didn't show up or changed his mind? Any number of things could happen to put a damper on the whole thing; in that event, what good would it do to put the idea in Ib's head when things were still so uncertain?

The chopped meat and vegetables that had been set aside went into the pan, cooking along with the eggs. Garry prodded the omelette with the spatula, tossing some salt and pepper into the pan. He would wait. There was no sense in upsetting her any more, and it was clear she'd had a trying day. She'd perked up a bit once she started her school work, but it was evident she needed sleep. If she was having trouble sleeping again, the very last thing she needed was one more thing to worry herself over.

"Garry?"

The man jumped at the sudden voice, his hand slipping on the handle of the skillet. He quickly got himself together, turning his head to view the little girl padding up behind him.

"Ah, Ib. You surprised me! Are you done with your work already?"

Ib nodded, bumping Garry's arm as she peered into the pan. "Do you need help with anything?"

He didn't, not really, but Garry could never resist letting Ib help him with any task. "Sure, hon. Could you bring the rest of those chopped veggies over here please? I'll need them soon."

.

.

.

Just as they'd sat down to eat dinner together, Garry had noticed it. It was only once they'd relaxed and starting eating that he decided to say something about it.

"Ib, I hadn't noticed before but… That rose…"

Ib's fork halted near her partially open lips, regarding Garry in surprise. She lowered her fork to glance down at her blouse and the ceramic rose Garry was gesturing toward.

"Oh. Jennifer gave it to me, like a gift." Ib fondled the pin gently between her fingers. "Have you heard about them?"

"No, I haven't." Garry set his own fork down, quite finished with his omelette. He'd been too distracted while cooking the eggs, and as retribution he'd taken the burned of the two, hoping it wouldn't affect the flavor too much. It had. "Are they popular right now?"

"I guess so," Ib answered with a small shrug of her shoulders. "Jennifer told me that people are using them as charms. That if they keep their rose safe, they'll have good fortune."

An uneasy chill flew up Garry's spine, making him noticeably shudder. "A-ah, really? My, if that isn't familiar in the worst way…"

Ib absently cut her omelette into bite-sized pieces, focused on her task. Garry loved to watch Ib eat, if only because she'd been raised in an upper-class family that put lots of emphasis on etiquette. It was like dining with royalty. "I thought so, too." The fork suddenly halted against the plate and Ib looked up at Garry with round, inquisitive eyes. "Does it bother you?"

" _Goodness_ , no," Garry chuckled, holding his chin in his palm. "I think it's lovely. The similarity is the only thing that surprised me… But really, that's no different from any superstitious fad, no? They're always about fortune this, prosperity that…" He smiled. "What a nice thing for Jennifer to do. She's a good friend, huh?"

Ib smiled, nodding. "It was unexpected."

"By no means is it required to give someone something in return - and I'm sure she wasn't expecting anything, either - but it might be nice to give her a gift too, don't you think?" Garry asked. "I can help you pick something out, if you'd like."

The little girl nodded again. "Jennifer mentioned a shop by her house, maybe I should try there. They have those rose charms there, too." She hummed in consideration. "I wonder if they have them in blue. Would Garry wear a blue rose like mine?"

Garry giggled behind his hand. "If it was a gift from Ib, of course."

Ib's face lit up beautifully, and she took another couple bites of her dinner. After she'd properly swallowed, she spoke again. "My teacher asked me to join a maths team today. It's for a game competition, where other schools will be competing."

Garry sat up straight, raking his unruly bangs away from his face. "Whoa, Ib, really? That's amazing! Are you going to do it?"

Immediately the little girl's shoulders sagged, and she set down her fork, placing her hands in her lap. "I'm not sure."

"Oh… Of course, I understand. That's a big decision, isn't it?" It was hard to remain neutral when he was absolutely bursting with pride, but somehow Garry managed. He knew well how hard it was for Ib to be social, and he'd certainly never known her as a 'team player'. "I really think it would be great, Ib. Sometimes it's good to put ourselves outside of our comfort zone and try something new."

The little girl stared at her nearly empty plate in consideration. "Something new…"

"Right! It's all a part of life, you know. Trying new things is a great way to expand your horizons and grow! It might be a little scary at first, but I know you'll do fine. You're the smartest person I've ever met, after all."

Ib met Garry's eyes, a pale flush falling over her fair cheeks. She glanced back down at her food, kissing her lips together. "Well… Maybe I'll think about it a little more, then."

.

.

.

"Are these new?"

Ib pointed at Garry's open sketchpad on the coffee table, taking a bite out of her green macaroon. After dinner, Garry made tea and collected some macaroons for dessert; Ib had plopped herself on the couch and Garry sat on the floor opposite her. The macaroons were slightly stale - he'd bought them last week - but neither of them cared in the slightest.

Garry craned his neck to see what Ib was pointing at and nodded. "Oh, yes! I was working on some of those last night." Garry rested his chin in his hand, stirring his spoon in his teacup. "Do you like them?"

The little girl smiled. "Mm. They're cute. Do you think that when I'm older, I'll look good is something like this?"

Garry scooted closer to the coffee table, crossing his legs under it. He grabbed a coaster and set his steaming teacup down close to Ib's. "I think you'd look just fine as you are, Ib. I don't really design clothes that one might consider 'adult' or 'revealing', after all. Besides, have you forgotten all the outfits you've modeled for me? You were _beyond adorable_ in each and every one of them!"

Ib's smile faded somewhat. "Adorable, huh."

Garry tilted his head, blinking. "Ib? Something wrong?"

The little girl shook her head, finishing her macaroon and sipping some of her tea. Garry once again noted the dark circles under her eyes, wondering if Ib wanted to talk about it or if she'd skirt the subject. He thought to bring it up, but Ib's attention shifted to the long-eared, stuffed occupant sitting at the edge of the table, smiling at it over the lip of her cup.

"Scarlet is always in a new place every time I come over," Ib observed. Garry followed her gaze and grinned, reaching out to grab the floppy stuffed item, running his thumb habitually over the glossy ribbon tied around its neck.

"He mostly hangs out here when I'm working late," Garry mused, turning the pink rabbit over in his hand. "I've never had such a good muse, you know! Well, except for you, naturally." he giggled. "Then again, I think the whole reason he inspires me so much is because whenever I look over at him, it makes me think of you, and everything we've been through together."

At the mention, Ib's expression unmistakably softened again, her gaze suddenly far away. She busied herself with her tea. Garry frowned, setting Scarlet back on the coffee table. The bunny's floppy pink ears drooped, making its head pull to the side.

"Ib, I know I asked before, but… Is something the matter? I get the feeling there's something you aren't telling me." Guilt stabbed Garry's stomach, needlessly reminding him about his upcoming interview. He vehemently squashed the feeling.

The little girl lowered her teacup, holding it between her hands in her lap. She stared at the rising steam vacantly for a long moment before she spoke.

"I had a nightmare. It's been bothering me, but…" She crossed her ankles, fidgeting with her cup, "I wasn't trying to keep anything from you, I promise." The knife of guilt twisted.

"I know, Ib. It's fine." Garry leaned his elbows on the table top. "Do you want to talk about it? Would that help?"

Now that she'd said it, Ib looked relatively more relaxed than before. "I don't remember most of it."

"Maybe just talk through what you can remember, then." Garry prompted gently.

Ib continued to stare into her cup, worrying her bottom lip. "Mary was taking me somewhere. We were in the museum again, but things felt different. It was like I was forgetting something. And then…" Ib's brow scrunched in concentration and her shoulders began to quake with residual fear. "Mary led me to a big, diamond-shaped sculpture that was pitch black. It wanted me to… I don't know. I don't know what it wanted, but I felt like it was calling to me, if that makes sense."

"Diamond-shaped and black…?" Garry held his chin between his thumb and knuckle, narrowing his eyes at the table top. "Did it look like a bed, Ib?"

Ib looked up, her eyes wide. She nodded wordlessly.

"I remember that horrible thing… What was it called again? Ah... 'Final Stage', I believe. Yes, that thing gave me a _dreadful_ feeling… I'm glad we left as quickly as we did." Garry glanced back up to see Ib staring at him in apparent surprise and curiosity. He returned her look with just as much bewilderment. "You remember, don't you? After escaping the sketchbook, we found another hallway in the fabricated museum, the hallway that originally trapped me in the exhibit that day. We got lost down there, and just before finding our way back out, we came upon a sculpture just as you described. You tried to touch it, but I had a bad feeling, so we left."

Ib dropped her gaze and stared hard at her knees. Garry's chest stirred with worry. "Ib, do you really not remember?"

The little girl slowly shook her head, brown hair falling over her shoulder. "N-no. I remember burning Mary's portrait, and I remember finding the portrait that led to our world… But I can't…" Ib's shoulders shook harder, and Garry felt sick with himself for accidentally making her more anxious than she'd been. Garry wanted badly to pass off the whole thing as a lapse in memory, but Ib had an excellent memory and never had an issue recalling even the smallest detail of their experience in the museum, no matter how much he wished she could forget. How could she have forgotten something so ominous as that? He realized that they hadn't spent much time near that strange sculpture - and they'd found the way out soon after, to boot - but it didn't seem to be something so easily overlooked. Perhaps Ib hadn't found it as menacing as he had.

Garry leaned forward, waving his hand in the air dismissively. "Ib, don't fret… Forgetting things from time to time is perfectly normal, you know? Why, I forget things all the time! So much happened in that place, it's only natural to lose some of it. It's been two whole years, after all… I'm sure I've forgotten plenty of things as well." The little girl looked up at Garry with shining eyes and trembling lips.

"Really?" she asked in a small, vulnerable voice. Garry stood and went to her, sitting next to her on the couch. He draped an arm over her shoulder, letting her fall into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Yes, really. So please don't worry so much, alright? Besides… You remembered it in some way, if you had a nightmare about it. That must have made it _much_ scarier, if you couldn't recall seeing it before." Beside him, Ib sniffled, rubbing her face on the back of her hand.

"I miss Mary," Ib muttered pitifully. Garry tightened his hold. They hadn't spoken of Mary in months - nothing more than a passing mention - but Garry understood the power of particularly vivid dreams and the emotions they could stir within. He was sure that neither one of them would even harbor such intense feelings about Mary's passing if it hadn't been for how it happened. No matter how often they talked about it or reassured each other, neither one of them could deny they still felt responsible.

"Me too," Garry replied, rubbing Ib's arm. They remained like that in silence for a long moment, and only when Garry felt the girl next to him calm down a bit did he think to move. "How about some more tea?" he asked gently. Ib nodded, and he squeezed her one more time before getting up from the couch and stretching. "Alright then! I'll be back in just a moment with some more-"

As he turned, he felt a small hand clutch the back of his t-shirt. Concerned, he looked back at the little girl, who was looking up at him with an uncharacteristically fragile expression.

"Ib, what's wrong?"

Her vivid crimson irises grew impassioned. "Garry… You promise we'll be together, right?" she asked earnestly. "We won't ever be apart from one another, will we?"

"Oh, hon…" Garry gently pulled her hand from his shirt, holding it between his larger hands. "I promise we'll always be together. No matter what, kay?" He watched her breathe a slow sigh through his lips, her expression calming with his words. He released her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry over such silly things, Ib. Sit here and relax, and I'll bring that tea."

.

.

.

He'd come back with two steaming mugs of tea to find Ib sleeping like the dead on his couch.

Really, he shouldn't have been surprised. Throughout the night her exhaustion had been apparent, but he'd hoped she could have held out until he got her home. Too much tea, maybe. At any rate, it was too late to worry about it, and she was simply too precious to wake up. Garry flipped open his phone, dialing Ib's home number. Ib's mother answered quickly.

"Oh, Garry. Did she fall asleep?"

Garry choked on his greeting, turning the sound into a weak laugh. "Ah, uhm… Well, _yes_ but- that is, how did you know?"

He heard a sigh from the other end. "She looked tired this morning, is all. She said it was nothing, but I had a feeling she wasn't telling me something so I wouldn't worry. Did she say anything to you?"

Inwardly, Garry groaned. He hated finding himself between Ib's trust in him and her mother's monumental parental right to know anything and everything about her daughter's well-being. More often than not, he tried to placate both sides by telling Ib's mother the truth without giving up too many details.

"She had a nightmare, is all," Garry answered. "A particularly nasty one."

"I _knew_ it," Mrs. D'Amore muttered. Garry could just see the woman pacing back and forth in his mind's eye. "The nightmares have been more frequent lately. Just when I thought maybe she'd finally be rid of them…"

"A nightmare every now and again is normal for a child Ib's age," Garry tried to reassure.

"It's also normal for a girl Ib's age to tell her parents about a troubling dream instead of keeping it to herself." Mrs. D'Amore pointed out. A moment later, she sighed. "Well, at least she told _someone_ , I suppose."

"I- Ah, sorry," Garry offered meekly.

Ib's mother giggled. "Oh, stop. You're only fault is how much Ib loves you. Which, I might add, is a trait that Mr. D'Amore is still not terribly fond of."

"I'm sorry," he repeated pathetically.

The woman laughed again. "I'm only teasing. He loves you too, you know."

Garry grinned, feeling slightly relieved. "Is it alright if Ib sleeps here tonight?" Garry asked, resting his phone in the crook of his neck while he set the dirty plates and mugs in the sink. "I can get her to school in the morning, it's no trouble. I'd just hate to wake her now that she's sleeping so soundly."

"Sure, sure. Make sure she gets a good breakfast, okay?"

"Of course. She'll be well fed, on time and spick and span, I swear on pain of death!" Garry announced. "The real challenge will be cleaning her uniform in the morning - I may just have to iron it while she's taking a bath, if there's no time to wash it."

"If worse comes to worse, call me and I'll bring over her clean uniform, alright? Call if you need anything at all."

"Thanks, Genevieve." Garry finished piling the dishes in the soapy water, turning on his heel to lean back against the counter. "I'll have Ib call you in the morning, too."

"I appreciate it, Garry dear." Mrs. D'Amore sighed. "Good night to you, then."

"Sure. Good night."

Garry wiped his soapy fingers on his t-shirt, closing his phone and slipping it into his pocket. He needed to do the dishes, but before he could get to that, more important matters were calling to him in the other room.

His couch wasn't terribly comfortable. He disliked sleeping on it himself, and often when he woke to find he'd fallen asleep there his aching body regretted it immediately. Ah, the woes of a poor college student. Still, for this reason he didn't like for Ib to sleep there, but he also worried that moving her would wake her up. After some time of contemplation - and feeling vaguely creepy for staring at her angelic, sleeping form as he considered what to do - he decided to try moving her.

Garry carefully bent over the girl and scooped his arms under her shoulders and knees, pulling her to his chest. He watched her face for signs of stirring, but her head merely lolled onto his shoulder and she continued her steady, serene breathing. _Cute_. As if he were carrying something remarkably breakable, Garry padded to his bedroom and gingerly elbowed the door open, stepping inside and carrying the little girl to the bed.

Pulling aside the covers was a difficult task with a small girl cradled in his arms, but somehow Garry managed and laid Ib down as gently as possible. Even after all of that, Ib remained soundly sleeping, instinctively curling onto her side and nuzzling the pillow when Garry folded the blankets up over her shoulders. Garry smoothed a hand over her hair, allowing his knuckle to linger on her cheek. It had been a while since she'd fallen asleep at his apartment. He didn't realize how much he missed seeing her like this until now; untroubled, unguarded. Completely at peace with the world. Garry leaned over the bed, pressing a kiss to the girl's temple.

"Sleep well, Ib,"

Maybe going to the interview was a bad idea. He'd been trying to rationalize it by thinking that Ib needed him too much for him to consider leaving, but the opposite was just as true. Even more so, perhaps. He couldn't imagine his life without her anymore.

Thankfully, he was too tired to consider how weak and pathetic that probably made him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm setting up so much stuff it's ridiculous. In the meantime, here's some fluff
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!! ೭੧(❛▿❛✿)੭೨


	5. Ib

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ib and Jennifer find a secret shop and meet a mysterious man.

Something soft and plush was pressing against Ib's cheek. A familiar scent enveloped her, and Ib sleepily nuzzled her nose in the velvety material she was clutching in her hands. She was so warm and comfortable she didn't want to move, but slowly her eyes opened when she realized she wasn't in her own bed.

The curtains hanging on Garry's windows were paper-thin, allowing morning light to flood the room and sting Ib's eyes. She rubbed them, slowly shifting and sitting up. Something soft slipped out of her hand and fell into her lap with a soft plop; Ib glanced down at it, confused.

It was Scarlet the rabbit. The plush doll stared up at her with its dull button eyes, arms laying limply at its sides. Ib returned its stare, trying to remember what had happened before she'd fallen asleep. She'd told Garry about her dream, and he'd gone to get more tea… She didn't recall being brought into Garry's room, or falling asleep with Scarlet, either. She supposed Garry had carried her to his bed and given her Scarlet to sleep with. Although she appreciated it, Ib reminded herself to inform Garry at a later time that she was too old to sleep with toys. Well, most nights, anyway.

There came a gentle knock at the door just as Ib was wondering where Garry had gone.

"Ib? Are you awake?"

"Yes," Ib answered, combing her fingers through her messy hair.

"May I come in?" Garry asked.

"Mmhmm."

The door opened, inviting in an alluring aroma of bacon and something sweet, maybe pancakes. Garry stepped into the room, offering Ib a warm smile. His hair was mussed from sleep, the dark streaks of purple that were usually so perfectly styled mixed haphazardly in the rest of his unkempt mop. He wore a wrinkled, baggy tank top and sweatpants. Ib enjoyed seeing Garry in the morning just after he'd woken up; he was usually very serious about 'being put together', so it was always interesting to see him out of his element. It gave Ib a strange sense of satisfaction, like she was seeing a side of Garry that no one else got to see.

"Good morning!" Garry chimed, padding to the bed and climbing onto it, sitting cross-legged next to the girl. "Did you sleep well?" He absently fussed with her hair. "No nightmares?"

Ib shook her head. "I'm sorry I fell asleep so suddenly."

Garry grinned. "Don't be, hon. I was kind of glad, actually. It was no trouble."

"Mama and papa weren't mad?"

Garry tilted his head. "Not that I know of. Ooh, that reminds me. After breakfast, call your parents, okay?"

Ib nodded. "If you let me sleep here, where did Garry sleep?" the girl asked worriedly.

"Ah, the Esteemed and Marvelous Couch, of course," Garry chuckled. "It left me with a bit of a stiff neck, but otherwise I came out just fine."

"Why didn't you just sleep here?" Ib asked. It had been some time since they'd slept together - and admittedly, Ib was usually the one who pulled Garry into the situation - and Ib would have been lying if she said she hadn't wanted to wake up with Garry again.

Garry rubbed his neck, laughing through his nose. "Well now, that _would_ make mama and papa mad," he said apologetically. "It's important to remain a gentleman at all times, after all."

Ib frowned, pinching her lips together in an attempted pout. "Garry's always a gentleman," she pointed out. "What does sleeping with me have to do with being a gentleman?"

The look Garry gave her was one of deep fondness, but somehow it irked Ib all the same. He was looking at her as though she were a child again. "Oh, Ib… You're too cute for words." he giggled, stroking her hair. "You're right, though. It may not be gentlemanly to admit it, but I always sleep best when Ib is with me."

Ib said nothing, but she silently agreed. Just as she was about to ask about breakfast, Garry's gaze shifted to her lap, and he blinked in surprise. "Oh! When did you grab Scarlet?" he asked. Ib followed his stare, glancing at the bunny still slumped in her lap. She watched Garry pick up the stuffed rabbit, smiling at it as he turned it in his hand. "I was wondering, when I didn't see him on the table. I didn't even hear you get up to get him."

Again, Ib was silent. She'd thought that Garry put Scarlet in bed with her, and even now it didn't seem as though he was teasing her. At Ib's continued silence, Garry stared up at the little girl with curious eyes.

"Ib, you okay?"

The little girl slowly nodded. "Mm." She paused, considering. "Is breakfast ready?"

.

.

.

"Ooh, Ib, look at this one!"

Jennifer's excited voice pulled Ib out of her reverie, and the little girl turned to see her friend wearing a jaunty hat, striking a pose. "Isn't it cute?"

Ib summoned a small smile and nodded. Jennifer giggled and carefully placed the hat back on the shelf. She sighed wistfully. "My mom would never let me wear something like that. 'Too flashy', she'd say."

Ib perused the shelves of charms and toys, her eyes scanning the items with purpose. Jennifer popped up on her right side, holding her arms behind her back. "What are you looking for?"

"Those rose charms," Ib explained. "I wanted to see if they had a certain color."

"Oh!" Jennifer pointed to their right, toward a cardboard display. "They're up there. Wanna go look?" Upon seeing them, Ib felt slightly foolish for not just asking outright. As Jennifer ushered them over to it, Ib issued a quiet 'thank you'.

"Which color are you looking for?" Jennifer inquired, leaning over the small, narrow plastic bins to search through the piles of plastic-wrapped roses.

"Blue," Ib answered, gently picking through the roses to find her desired color.

Jennifer tapped her finger against her chin. "Blue and black are the rare colors, I think. They sell out as soon as they get any in."

Ib's heart flopped in disappointment. "Oh…"

Jennifer nudged her arm playfully. "Hey, don't worry! Let's look through these, and if we can't find any, maybe we can ask the clerk when they might get some more in!"

.

.

.

Despite Jennifer's optimistic outlook, they hadn't found any blue roses and the clerk confirmed that they weren't sure when they'd be getting any more in. They didn't order them by color, he said, so they had no way of knowing how many of the rare colors they would get.

The girls walked along the sidewalk, shops and businesses flanking their right, streets and traffic to their left. Jennifer swung her school bag in front of her knees, intentionally slowing her pace to match Ib's regrettably shorter legs.

"Sorry we didn't find any blue ones," Jennifer offered. Ib smiled, shaking her head.

"It's alright. I was just curious if they had any, was all."

"A present for someone?" Jennifer asked, leaning in so that there shoulders were kissing. "A crush, maybe?"

"Kind of," Ib replied coolly. "It was going to be for Garry."

Jennifer's stride faltered for the smallest of moments. From the corner of Ib's eye, the girl looked vaguely flushed.

"O-oh," she said, fixing her eyes ahead of them on the pavement as they walked. "Does he like the color blue?"

"He likes purple better. He likes every color, so I think he likes blue just fine." Ib answered, flipping some hair over her shoulder.

Jennifer tilted her head. "Then… Why look for blue?"

Once again, Ib was met with another Question that she Can't Possibly Answer In A Way That Makes Sense. Ib didn't usually concern herself too much with those sorts of questions, finding that either dodging the question or derailing it completely tended to work just fine.

"Did your mother tell you to come straight home after school?" Ib asked. "You won't get in trouble, right?"

Jennifer nodded, frowning. "Yeah, she knows. Remember, I told you that already when I asked if you could come over to my house today!"

"Oh, right." Ib answered. "I forgot."

"Honestly, Ib. You sure space out a lot sometimes, you know."

"Sorry."

Jennifer giggled. "Don't apologize, silly."

A gaggle of teenagers walked past the girls, chatting amongst themselves so loudly that Ib could scarcely hear herself think. As the group overtook them, Jennifer stretched her arms into the air, sighed, and then cleared her throat.

"Ib, uhm… You know a lot about Garry, right?"

Ib turned her head toward her friend, some of her silky hair falling over her shoulder. "Mhmm. More than anyone." It was a fact she was very proud of.

"So… Do you know if… uhm…" Jennifer couldn't meet her eyes, and her arms were uncharacteristically stiff at her sides, "...Does Garry have a girlfriend?"

 _What a strange question_. Ib quirked a brow. "Why do you want to know?" she asked, realizing only after the words had left her mouth how accusing it sounded.

"W-well…" Jennifer distractedly spun a strand of light hair around her finger. "I'm just sort of curious, is all."

Ib had never seen her friend flustered before. Jennifer was usually so bubbly and confident, it was jarring to see her fidgeting and worrying over her words. What was even more curious was that she was asking about Garry of all people, someone she'd only met once.

"No, he doesn't have a girlfriend." Ib answered.

"Oh, really?" Jennifer's voice sounded almost hopeful, and Ib felt a strange twist of something unidentifiable in her stomach.

"Mm. He's not really interested in girls." Ib continued, thinking it best to clearly explain her answer.

Jennifer faltered again, practically tripping over her shoes. "Wh- Oh. Oh? Oh." The girl frowned at the sidewalk. "Ohh." She turned to face Ib, somehow managing to walk sideways. "So, he likes boys?"

Ib's eyes rolled upward in consideration. Garry had certainly never hidden his orientation, nor had he ever discouraged Ib from telling others. It still seemed in poor taste to talk about it so thoroughly - almost like gossiping - but if Jennifer truly wanted to know, Ib didn't see any harm in setting her straight.

"Kind of," Ib said finally, "but not really. I guess he likes both, but not very often. It's hard to explain."

Jennifer held her chin in her hand as though she was trying to think through a difficult equation. "So, he's…. What's it called… Uhm, bisexual? Is that why he talks kinda girly?"

"Garry talks that way because it's comfortable for him. He doesn't really like to think of himself as girly or manly, he says he feels somewhere in-between."

"Oh… I see." Jennifer nodded to herself as if she'd just figured something out. "That sounds complicated. Being a grown-up must be hard."

Ib nodded in agreement. "Garry found out all that when he was our age. His parents got really mad about it, and started treating him really bad." She officially felt that perhaps she'd said too much. Ib sucked her lips into her mouth, hoping she hadn't accidentally betrayed Garry's trust.

"That's horrible," Jennifer murmured behind her hand. "Poor Garry… Parents can be so mean."

That was a sentiment that Ib didn't fully grasp; her own parents were so good to her, even on their worst days. She agreed, though. She could never understand how anyone could treat Garry - or anyone, for that matter - cruelly just because they were different.

A small and awkward blue and pink object suddenly moved out of the corner of Ib's vision, drawing her attention. She stopped walking. Jennifer passed her, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Ib stared at the dark alley between the office building and cafe, squinting at the object sitting on the ground. It looked like a doll, with black yarn hair and a blue body, dressed in a pink dress. It's bizarre head was lolled to the side, it's jagged grin stretching from one side of its face to the other. It was familiar and unsettling in equal measure. Ib didn't want to look at it anymore.

As the little girl was about to turn away, the doll sprang up on its stubby legs, clumsily turning and shambling toward a previously unnoticed stairway. Grinning with its wide, stitched mouth, the doll pitched itself forward, its limbs flailing as it went bouncing down the stairs.

Without thinking, Ib hurried to the stairs, lips parted in a concerned gasp. Behind her, Jennifer's voice rang out.

"Hey, Ib! Where are you going?"

Ib could barely hear her. The stairs descended down and took a sharp left turn, leaving the bottom a complete mystery. The doll was nowhere to be seen. Was this a dream? Something about these stairs didn't feel real. It felt like the Guertena exhibit as the lights had begun to dim, making the world surreal and unbalanced. Despite her hesitance, Ib's feet began to move of their own accord, her shoes clacking against the concrete steps. A distant memory surfaced in her mind, blurry and misplaced.

_...I feel like… I've passed these stairs before. Ib, are you going down there? I feel very nervous…_

Ib's hand slid gently along the railing as she descended, her heart racing uncomfortably in her chest. It was a peculiar feeling, the body and mind wanting and acting on different things. Even as she walked, her mind screamed in protest, the hair on the back of her neck standing rigid.

The stairs ended and emptied into a dark, wide room. Ib froze, fear jumping into her throat when she saw a large black diamond-shaped bed in the center, inviting her near, blue footprints stamped along the left side of it as if to say _"this is the way, right here"_. As Ib stared at the sculpture, she half-expected Mary to appear, drenched in flames; instead, there was only the blue doll, sitting just next to the child-sized footprints that were calling her closer. Ib's mind became hazy. Maybe if she laid on the bed, she could rest.

" _Whoa_! I had no _idea_ this was down here!" Jennifer's voice cut through the haze like a knife, and Ib's trance-like state shattered in an instant as the girl passed in front of her, looking around them in wonder. "A secret shop, just like on TV!"

Ib blinked, a hitching breath escaping her lips. She turned her head, taking in her surroundings. The diamond bed was gone, as was the entire room. The floor under their feet was cobbled bricks, poorly kept and worn with time. A variety of tall, exotic potted plants with wide leaves lined the shadowed, narrow space. Directly opposite the stairs was a small building - maybe 'shack' would be the more accurate term - nestled between the basement floors of the huge buildings around it. Odd baubles and shining knickknacks hung from the protruding awning above the door and lay against the rickety siding. Even the windows were bursting with objects of all kinds, blocking out the sparse sunlight entirely.

A shop sign hung from the window, the flowery words old and worn, though Ib could only make out one of the words: " _? Heart_ ".

"Ib, we should go inside!" Jennifer exclaimed, bouncing on the soles of her feet. "I can barely read the sign, but it's definitely a shop! You'll go in with me, right?"

Ib glanced around once more. The surreal feeling was gone, with no trace of the visions she'd seen before. Had any of that been real? She'd slept fine the night before, so she couldn't blame sleep deprivation.

"Ib?" Jennifer's concerned face was suddenly in Ib's field of vision, watching her cautiously. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"O-oh," Ib shook her head and straightened her posture. "I'm fine. We can go in if you want."

Jennifer pushed the door open and the girls stepped inside. A chime sounded from deeper in the shop as the door swung shut behind them.

The inside was much like the outside - crowded with eccentric odds and ends of all sorts, heaps of objects sitting on tables that were lined haphazardly throughout the space. Plants of varying sizes and colors hung from the ceiling and cluttered the corners, all of it leaving narrow walkways between the tables to navigate. Against the far wall, a long, thick brown and green python slithered behind aquarium glass. Beside it, propped up against the wall, was a huge painting that was covered with sheets, only bits of its golden frame peeking out.

Jennifer pressed into Ib's side, a soft gasp on her lips. "Look at all this pretty stuff… Do you think these are all antiques?" she whispered. Ib supposed they were. Nothing looked modern or new, and almost every item looked mystical in nature, all glass and wood, globes and chimes. Jennifer tentatively stepped toward one of the globes, reaching out her hand to gently tap its surface. "What do you think this is…?"

Behind them, a soft voice spoke.

"Be careful with that, Little Miss. 'You break it you buy it', or so they say."

The girls whirled around. Jennifer jumped in surprise, grabbing Ib's arm tightly. Ib struggled to keep her balance while also eyeing the stranger sitting behind the counter, his features hard to make out in the dim light. The longer Ib stared at him, the more familiar he became to her. Ib's mouth fell open, and a name tumbled from her lips before she could stop herself.

"...G-Garry?"

The man stood up, a nearby lamp better illuminating his features. At second glance, he looked less like Garry, though he still bore a striking resemblance; his longer hair was like dark ash, falling over one side of his face and held loosely at the side of his neck with a tie, spilling waves of dark hair over his right shoulder. The first several buttons of his frilly fuchsia shirt were open, exposing his defined collarbone and chest and layers of brightly colored necklaces. His coat looked eerily similar to the coat Garry had been wearing when she'd met him in the museum, so much so that Ib felt a strong nostalgia the longer she looked. The man offered the girls an apologetic smile, holding a long, thin pipe between his slender fingers.

"Forgive me, Little Misses, I didn't mean to frighten you. I thought you'd seen me when you came through the door, but I suppose it's too cluttered in here, after all." He blew a ring of smoke into the air, tapping his finger against his pipe. His gaze shifted to Ib, smiling at her, "Little Miss, have we met before? How did you know my name?"

Jennifer gasped in wonder. "Your name is Garry? _Really_?"

The man's eye widened in realization. "Ah, I see… So sorry, I misheard you. My name is Gray, not Garry… Though, the names are startlingly familiar, yes?" Gray lightly stepped out from behind the counter, his coat proving to be much longer than Garry's, trailing behind his ankles. He offered the girls a small, polite bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Little Misses."

Ib answered with a stiff curtsy, and Jennifer awkwardly followed suit. Gray smiled, leaning back against the counter and bringing his pipe back to his lips. "Now, however did you two find this place? I do well to keep this shop's reputation as exclusive as possible, so to speak."

 _No wonder_ , Ib thought. _The stairs were almost invisible from the street. If it hadn't been for that doll…_

"O-oh, are we not supposed to be here?" Jennifer asked nervously. Gray shook his head, smiling. Even his smile was like Garry's… Though Ib knew it wasn't him, it was hard not to feel like she was talking to Garry in a wig.

"No, nothing like that. Don't fret, Little Miss, you're quite welcome here. It's just that I rarely see such young faces coming through the door. Not many people your age value the kinds of wares that I sell."

Jennifer sighed in relief and looked around them. "I think it's all beautiful!"

"Thank you, Miss. Please browse to your heart's content. If you have any questions, I'll be near to answer them."

.

.

.

Though the shop was small, it was absolutely bursting with things to look at. Ib was positive one could spend hours looking at every little trinket if they weren't careful. There was a sort of strange comforting presence lingering in the air, as it time had stopped entirely. Considering the strange vision she'd seen before arriving here, Ib couldn't help but be cautious regardless; if it hadn't been for Jennifer also seeing the shop and its inhabitant, Ib might have assumed the entire place was a mirage.

"Jennifer, what time is it?" Ib asked her friend. Jennifer pried her attention away from a lovely blown glass sculpture to check her wristwatch.

"Oh, shoot. My watch stopped! We should probably go, or my mom will be mad." The girl glanced wistfully around. "Ahh, I don't want to go yet!"

"Ah, what's this?" Gray inquired from behind the counter. He was thumbing through a magazine, his pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. "You won't be late getting home, I hope?"

Ib and Jennifer walked to the counter, and Gray set his magazine aside, lacing his fingers together in front of him. "No, we should be fine if we hurry," Jennifer explained. "Mr. Gray, may we come back to your shop soon?"

Gray chuckled. "Of course! Please come by whenever you like." He rested his chin on the top of his hand. "And please, just call me Gray. Oh, I never asked your names! How rude of me."

"Oh, I'm Jennifer," the girl answered with a smile. She gestured to Ib, who was too busy staring at Gray to answer. "And this is my friend, Ib."

"Jennifer and Ib," Gray repeated. "Pleasure to meet you both." His gaze once again moved to Ib. Now that they were closer, Ib could see their color; exactly the same as Garry's. "Miss Ib, you're rather quiet, are you not? There's nothing wrong with that, of course… ' _He that keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps his soul from trouble_ ', or so they say."

"Is that a proverb?" Ib asked. Gray nodded, playing with his pipe between his fingers.

"It is indeed. You're a smart girl, Ib. Though, you've been staring at me _very_ intently… Is there something wrong with my face?" he asked amusedly.

Ib cast her gaze away, staring at the counter-top. "…Sorry. It's just, you look like someone I know."

"Hm?" Gray titled his head, grinning. "Interesting! Is it this Garry you mistook me for when you arrived?"

Ib answered with a silent nod. Gray drummed his long fingers against the counter. "Someone similar to me in both name and appearance… What a fascinating coincidence! I hope this is a person you think of fondly, so that I don't offend."

"Very fondly!" Ib announced with confidence. Gray chuckled.

"I see, how nice!" He glanced at the rose pin Ib wore on her collar. "Did he give you that rose, by chance?"

"No, Jennifer gave me this," Ib answered, laying a hand over the ceramic pin. Beside her, Jennifer beamed. "She got one for both of us. Though, I want to buy one for Garry, too…"

Gray hummed in consideration, reaching under the counter and pulling out a box, laying it carefully on the counter before the girls. Ib leaned over, glancing inside; it was full of rose pins and straps in an array of different colors. "I got some of them in when they first came out, but when they became popular, I hid them behind the counter here. As you can tell, this isn't the kind of place where people come for trendy items…" He smiled at Ib patiently. "Was there a specific color you were looking for?"

Ib felt a surge of excitement course through her small body, and she clutched her hands at her chest. "...Blue?" she answered hopefully.

"Blue, huh…" Gray reached into the box, sifting through the tiny plastic bags. "One of the rare colors, I think. Ah, here we are…" He pulled a charm from the box, handing it to Ib. "Is this what you're looking for?"

Ib took the bag in her hands, her heart doing an excited backflip in her chest. It was a striking cobalt rose, exactly the same style as her own. She curled her fingers around it. "Yes, this is it! I can't believe you have one…"

"The other shop we went to today made it sound like they were nearly impossible to get!" Jennifer exclaimed. Gray grinned.

"Well, like I said. This isn't a very popular shop in the first place, but even less so for trendy items."

"I'll take it, please," Ib said, pulling up her bag to snap open the latches. "How much is it?"

Gray pushed the box aside, taking another puff of his pipe. "No charge, Miss Ib, In commemoration of our first meeting."

Ib's fingers halted on the metal clasp of her bag. "Wh- Oh, are you sure?"

"Of course," Gray answered, absently twirling some dark hair around his finger. "What's important is that you can give your dear friend a gift from the heart." He smiled at the girl kindly. "You'll do that, won't you?"

Ib nodded, smiling back. "Yes. Thank you so, so much."

"No need to thank me," Gray stood up and offered the girls another polite - but rather playful - bow. "Just be sure to come back and visit, alright?"

The girls curtsied, giggling.

"We will, promise!" Jennifer chimed.

As the girls took their leave, Ib turned one last time, remembering something she'd meant to ask.

"Mr- Uhm, Gray?"

"Yes, Miss Ib?" he answered her.

"What is the name of your shop? I couldn't read one of the words."

"Ah, of course," Gray laughed. "It's quite the complicated name, isn't it? It's _Frangible Heart_ , my dear." He grinned at them and offered a cheeky wink. "Now don't go telling all your friends… I run an exclusive shop, remember."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. Garry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garry has a bad dream, so naturally he goes with Ib for a day out on the town.

"No way, Edmonds. Is that a _portfolio_ you're working on?" Fiona piped from across the table, tossing Garry a look of mock-surprise. "You mean you're actually getting off your ass and getting back into the big, wide world of corporate slavery?"

Garry laughed through his nose, glancing at her over the screen of his laptop. "Aren't you supposed to be studying for some big business exam, Fi?"

A bespectacled man with a square jaw, tousled brown hair and a tight-fitting casual ensemble knocked his knuckles against the top of the table in an attempt to gain his companion's attention. "And _some_ of us are having a _mental breakdown_ right now," he said dramatically. "Didn't we agree to meet up for a study group? Isn't the point of a study group - oh, I don't know - _studying_? Why the hell is Edmonds working on a portfolio, and why are _you_ \- Fi, what _are_ you doing?"

"Enjoying my coffee, dear Thomas," Fiona replied coolly, sipping her mocha. "Quit exaggerating, will you? Of the three of us, I think it's safe to say you're the one with the _least_ amount to worry about, exam wise. You bloody genius, you."

Thomas sighed, his fingers tapping unfalteringly over his keyboard. "Or maybe I just _study_." His fingers halted their frantic pattern, and he glanced at Garry. "Though I guess in your case, a new job comes first. I forget sometimes that we aren't all trust-fund babies."

"Thanks for remembering," Garry chuckled.

"Tuition doesn't pay itself," Fiona pointed out. "Neither do the bills, unfortunately. And we can't _all_ steal money from our blood-sucking parents, like Gar here did," she added amusedly.

Garry frowned. "I didn't 'steal' anything," he put in hotly. "My aunt left me that money in her will. My _parents_ tried to steal it, and so I… ehh, stole it back."

Fiona leaned her elbow on the table, grinning. "I know honey, I know. And it remains one of the most hardcore things I've ever known you to do." She twirled her straw in her coffee. "I was kidding before, Gar. Happy for you. Do you have a job interview lined up or what?"

"I wouldn't call it 'lined up', Garry answered uneasily, slowly shutting his laptop. Due to his crippling indecision over the last few days, Garry hadn't seen fit to tell anyone about his upcoming interview with Mr. White. Part of him didn't want to jinx it, but another part of him - a very cowardly part - thought that talking about it would solidify it somehow, locking him into a decision he wasn't entirely ready to make. "Look, don't flip out, okay? This is going to sound kind of crazy."

"Oh good _lord_ ," Thomas sat back in his chair, his gaze deadpan, "you aren't going into the sex industry or something, are you?"

" _Wha_ -" Garry laughed, despite his disgust, "No!"

"The circus, maybe?" Fiona speculated, tapping a finger against her chin.

Thomas grimaced. "Oh god. _Accounting_?"

Garry sighed, scratching his fingers through his mop. "You two are assholes."

"Sorry, sorry," Fiona giggled. "Out with it, then."

Garry rubbed the back of his neck. "Right, okay." He blew a breath through his lips. "Last Saturday, I got a call from Wahre Kunst. Urm, a receptionist, I guess. Someone from the company saw my work in Trend and offered me a chance at an interview with one of their reps."

Both of Garry's companions stared at him in utter silence for what seemed like minutes. Finally, Fiona slammed a hand down on the table so hard that she caught the attention of the nearest table of customers.

" _Bull_ shit!" she exclaimed, looking almost offended. "Edmonds, are you being serious right now?"

"Ah, I suppose I am," Garry answered awkwardly. To his left, Thomas was holding both hands over his mouth.

" _Why_ didn't you mention this before?" Fiona demanded harshly, brandishing an accusing finger in Garry's direction. "You don't just _forget_ that Wahre Kunst gave you a _ring_ , Gar!"

Garry shrank away from her judgmental finger. "I'm sorry," he said. "To be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure I'm going to go."

Thomas very audibly gasped. Fiona sat back down in her seat, rubbing her temple. " _Tell me_ you didn't just say what I think you just said."

"What's wrong with you?" Thomas asked in a hushed voice. "Are you insane? Wahre Kunst is _endgame_ for people like us, Edmonds!"

"I _know_ that," Garry answered. "I'm not saying I'm definitely not going, it's just…" He sighed, not wanting to admit it out loud.

Fiona stared Garry down from across the table. "Oh, no. I know what this is about." she cupped her coffee between her hands, leveling Garry a severe expression. "Gar, are you _seriously_ considering throwing away everything you've worked towards for a girl? For Ib?"

Garry fell silent. Fiona sighed, sipping her coffee. "When's the interview?" she asked gently.

Garry cast his eyes away. "Tomorrow at four."

Fiona nodded. "Listen… When it comes right down to it, I'm not going to try and tell you what to do. Consider me the voice of reason, if that's easier. But you have to think about this logically. If this internship is a real possibility, I don't think you could live with yourself if you didn't at least give it a shot. Am I wrong?"

Garry hated Fiona's tendency to be right, and he especially hated how much he hated it. "I…" Garry sighed hugely, resting his forehead against the top of his laptop. "You're right, of course… But I never anticipated going so far away. Even the possibility of it is too much to consider."

"Is this about Ib, or is this about your fear of success?" Fiona asked. "This is a vulnerable time for you, you know? You just lost your job, so maybe subconsciously you're afraid you'll blow it."

"Well _now_ I am," Garry groaned. "I… I just don't know, okay? That's part of it, maybe. But the bigger issue is Ib. I promised her we'd stay together. If something comes of this - which it might not, you know - how can I just leave her? I don't think I could cope…"

Thomas clapped a hand on Garry's shoulder. "I'm gonna level with you, Edmonds. That sounds pathetic."

Garry grunted. "Thank you, Thomas."

"And ridiculously unhealthy, to boot."

"I get it. Thanks."

Fiona chuckled. "He has a point, Gar. Codependency is a thing. I know you love that little girl like crazy, but to go that far? If you think she can't survive without you, that's not good for her. She's at an age where she needs to become more independent."

Codependency? Independence? Those words felt so foreign in regard to Ib, so unnecessary. Garry had never disliked the thought of Ib becoming independent. In some ways, it was always a little sad to see childhood blossom into young adulthood, but he'd never once feared or resented that inescapable period of her life. The accusation of codependency rang more urgently in his ears. Fiona made it sound like such a harmful thing, but was it really? After all they'd been through together, wasn't it natural to not want to be apart? No one could possibly understand. If they knew the truth, then…

Garry looked up, his expression darker than he meant it to be. "What are you saying, Fi?"

"All I'm saying is that moving somewhere new wouldn't be the end of the world, especially for an opportunity like this. You could still write, you could still visit. And if they hire you on for an internship, what's that, three, maybe six months? But throwing away a chance at your dream just to stay close to Ib? I don't know." Fiona sighed, offering him a worried expression. Garry instantly relaxed, feeling somewhat guilty for reacting negatively to her friendly concern for him. "I've known you a long time, Gar. Going into fashion has always been your dream. As your friend, I just want to see you achieve that."

Garry pulled himself up, smiling apologetically. "I know. I'm sorry." He rubbed his hands over his face. "You're right, you're both right. I'm just being cowardly, I think." He sighed. "I'll go to the interview. I won't half-ass it, either."

"Good to hear," Fiona smiled, clapping her hands together. "Just don't stress about it, okay? You'll feel really silly if you went through all this trouble and nothing comes of it."

Thomas went back to typing vigilantly on his laptop. "Pull it together, Edmonds. Jobs in our field are few and far between."

"Yeah… You're right." Garry opened his laptop. Despite Fiona's good words, Garry still didn't feel convinced. _Codependency_. The word's meaning rang hollow. They didn't understand, but that was fine. That was the point.

Ib understood, and that was the only thing that mattered to him.

.

.

.

The sketch wasn't coming out right.

Garry brushed the page gently with his hand. The design looked amatur, like something he would have mocked up ten years ago. Frustrated, Garry tossed the sketchpad on his coffee table, accidentally knocking his TV remote on the ground. He swept some bangs away from his eyes, lying down on the couch and draping an arm over his eyes.

"You should get up and try again!" said a childish voice. It was girlish and energetic, not unlike a mascot on a children's show. Garry shook his head.

"Not interested."

"So you're just giving up, then?" the voice continued. Something light and plush climbed up the couch cushion and Garry's leg, flopping onto his knee.

"I guess so."

"You _can't_ give up," the voice chimed in exaggerated despair. "Ib will be in big trouble if you do!"

Garry moved his arm, sitting up abruptly. The plush weight pitched forward and landed softly in Garry's lap. Garry stared down at the red rabbit, frowning. "What do you mean? Ib is just fine. I wouldn't let anything happen to her. You should know that, Scarlet."

Scarlet struggled to stand on his stubby legs, swaying from the weight of his head and ears. When finally he managed it, the bunny's shiny button eyes met Garry's with purpose. "You have to stop it before it happens. If it happens, it might not _un_ happen. She'll be in big trouble!"

"What are you talking about?" Garry asked, picking the rabbit up in his hands. "Why are you talking about Ib being in trouble all of a sudden?"

One of the rabbit's stuffed arms pulled itself free from Garry's grip, pointing toward the coffee table. Garry followed Scarlet's pointed paw to his sketchbook. Leaning forward, Garry set the bunny on the couch and reached out to pick it up. His vision blurred and distorted as he held the sketchbook in his hands, a new image forming on the page in messy charcoal strokes.

It was Ib. Her eyes were closed, her face ashen and lifeless. A rose bloomed from her mouth, the vines and thorns wrapping around her slender throat and body, cutting into her clothes, drawing deep crimson from her limbs. As Garry stared in horror, the sketch took on life and color, Ib's blood leaking from the page and staining his hands. Garry shouted, flinging the offensive picture away. He tripped backward, his couch disappearing, sending him spiraling down into a consuming darkness. The darkness made it harder to forget the image that now burned behind his eyelids.

He landed hard on his side, groaning in pain. Something soft landed on top of him, bouncing off of his hip. It _hurt_ , it hurt so much… Somewhere above him, a loud, pulsing sound permeated the air, pounding in his ears in a steady rhythm. Garry painstakingly pulled himself up, feeling a strange weight in his arms. He opened his eyes, his vision spinning and blurred. He was cradling Ib in his arms - more specifically, her corpse - exactly as she'd been in the sketch, her blood soaking through her clothing and staining Garry's fingers.

Garry's mouth fell open but no sound emerged. He couldn't process what was happening. His arms trembled and he screamed. He held Ib to him, weeping into her shoulder, misery filling him to the brim. He didn't want this. He _never_ wanted this… How could this have happened? How could he have failed Ib so spectacularly? It should have been him...

"It's above you!" Scarlet's voice said urgently. "He's distracting you, he doesn't want you to see! It's up above!"

It took everything Garry had to pull his face away from the little girl's corpse and crane his neck back. Above them, a colossal orange rose bloomed from the ceiling, its massive vines and roots spreading over the walls like a sickness. Its petals throbbed with each loud pulse, which Garry now recognized as a heartbeat.

" _What… What_ is _this…._ "

Another sound cut through the persistent thumping, a familiar jingle. Garry felt a tug from behind, like he was being pulled somewhere new by an unseen hand. He glanced down at Ib, panic filling him. She was gone. The jingle grew louder, closer, and before Garry knew what was going on, the world around him shook and broke apart.

.

.

.

Garry sat up so fast he threw himself completely off of his bed, crashing to the bedroom floor in a flurry of sheets, flailing limbs and at least one pillow. One of his ankles still anchored on the edge of the bed, Garry stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, his breath coming out in heavy, rasping pants. His bangs were soaked and stuck to his forehead. It took him several moments to realize that his phone was ringing urgently on his bedside table. Garry groaned and sat up, sweeping his damp bangs back and staring at the object that had fallen into his lap.

Scarlet the bunny stared up at Garry blankly. Seeing the red plush doll caused a surge of sickness to stir in Garry's stomach, bringing back every horrifying detail of his dream. The phone continued to ring and a sudden fear rose within him, prompting Garry to stagger blindly to his feet and snatch his phone in a shaking hand. He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear, too frantic to check the number.

"Ib?! Are you okay? What happened?" Garry blurted out, his words slightly slurred as his lower jaw was still struggling to wake up.

A stunned silence met him on the other end. Just as Garry's brain was beginning to separate dreams from reality, the little girl's voice answered him meekly. "I'm fine, Garry… Are _you_ okay? Is something wrong?"

The sound of Ib's voice completely devoid of pain or trouble was possibly the sweetest sound Garry had ever heard. He sank to his knees in the pile of his crumpled sheets, sighing in relief. "Oh, thank goodness... Ib, I'm so glad you're okay…"

"What happened?" Ib asked worriedly. "Did Garry have a nightmare?"

 _As if I could say no after all that_. "Yeah, I did, hon. A really bad one." Garry raked fingers through his hair, willing his breathing to slow to a normal pace. "I'm sorry I worried you. I didn't mean to shout like that."

"It's okay," Ib assured. "Are you sure you're okay, though?"

"Just fine," Garry chuckled. "Just… Talk to me for a little bit, would you? Just so I can hear your voice."

"Mm. Okay." Ib cleared her throat. "Uhm, I called because I wanted to see if you were free today. I wanted to see you, and I thought we could go job hunting together."

Garry smiled, rubbing his hand over his chest. "I'm free as a bird today, my dear." He glanced at his calendar and grimaced in remembrance. "Ah… That is, I'm free until around three. I forgot I had an engagement." _Why can't I just say it? Interview, I have an interview!_

"Oh. That's okay. Will we have time to find you a new job before then?"

Garry laughed fondly. "I don't think so, no. But thank you for thinking of me, that's very sweet of you." A silence followed, and Garry's smile faded in worry. "Oh dear, have I ruined your plans for the day?"

"N-no," Ib answered, her voice slightly softer. "It doesn't matter what we're doing, I just thought today would be a good day to look for a new job... Can we still do something together?"

"Oh, of _course_!" Garry exclaimed. _After the nightmare I just had, I need to see you more than ever_. "I know, how about we shop for a gift for your friend Jennifer, as thanks for the rose she gave you? Does that sound good?"

"Yes," Ib answered, sounding pleased.

"Great, I'll be by after I shower and change, then. Kay?"

Ib hummed an affirmative. Garry closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her gentle breath in the receiver. She was fine, she was okay. She was breathing. Garry took a moment to focus on that, trying hard to banish the horrible images from his dream. He eyed the plush rabbit laying next to his knee, and his worry threatened to resurface.

"Garry?" Ib asked. Garry realized he'd gone silent for far too long.

"A-ah, sorry," he laughed, standing up on mildly shaking legs. "I'm still a little groggy. A shower should wake me up. I'll see you soon, okay?"

.

.

.

When Ib opened the door, it took everything Garry had not to scoop her immediately into his arms. He settled instead for the warm smile the girl gave him, and the faint flush of life on her cheeks. She was already dressed to go, her hair tied in low twintails with red ribbons. She was wearing the summer dress Garry had fixed for her the previous week, and Garry was suddenly glad he had; every inch of her was adorable in it.

"Hello Garry," Ib said.

"Ib, you look…" _Alive. Thank goodness, alive._ "...so cute in that dress! I can see why your mom wanted it mended."

Ib flashed him a small smile. "Shall we go?" she asked, somewhat impatiently, stepping outside and shutting the door behind her. Garry rarely picked her up without saying hello to her parents, and so leaving without a word seemed a bit jarring.

"Eager, are we?" Garry chuckled as the little girl placed her hands on his lower back, playfully pushing him away from the front door. Garry intentionally planted his feet as the girl strained against him, glancing back at her in amusement. Seeing her acting silly was one of the biggest joys of his life, but he had never appreciated it as much as he did now, when the memory of her lifeless corpse was still so fresh in his mind. "Any reason we're in such a big hurry?"

"I just want to see you as much as I can before you have to go!" Ib announced, giggling when Garry playfully leaned back against her hands. He finally granted her mercy and allowed her to lead him onward.

"Well then, who am I to stop you? Lead on, fair Ib!" Garry announced importantly.

.

.

.

"One strawberry, one chocolate, please."

Garry handed the vendor exact change for the crepes, and a few short moments later he was handed two warm crepes wrapped in wax paper. Garry thanked him and offered Ib the crepe with strawberry slices and drizzle. The little girl took it from him with a gentle smile.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Garry grinned, nibbling at his treat as they walked away from the cart, allowing the next people in line to order. "I can't possibly see a man selling crepes and not do something about it, after all." He turned to glance at his smaller friend. "How has school been? Last time we talked about it, you were a little worried about something, weren't you?"

Ib nodded, her face as devoid of clear emotion as it usually was. "Mm. I decided to join the maths team. I told Mr. Kirkland after school yesterday."

"Whoa, really? Ib, that's great!" It was ironic that the same day Fiona had mentioned Ib's growing independence, Ib would unknowingly demonstrate it in such a bold way. Though he had just convinced himself that he would welcome Ib's start to adulthood, he felt a dull pang of loss. "Don't be nervous, kay? You'll do beautifully."

The little girl looked up at Garry with upturned eyebrows. "I am a little nervous, but… Your support made me feel like if I tried it, it would be okay."

Garry smiled, smoothing a hand over the top of her head. "I'm glad, Ib. Be sure to tell me how it goes."

"I will."

"Good." Garry sucked in a deep puff of summer air. "Well, were there any shops in particular you wanted to visit? Oh, I know of one on the west end - Hidden Lily - it's quite mature and elegant, you know. Perfume and accessories. Do you think Jennifer would like something like that?"

Ib's eyes turned to the sky as she chewed a bite of strawberry. "Mm. I'm not really sure. Jennifer can act mature sometimes, but I don't think she likes things like perfume."

"I see, I see…" Garry drummed two fingers against his chin. "Maybe something more childish, then. Like a stuffed animal?"

"I think she likes things like charms and collectables," Ib said. "I've played in her room, she doesn't have many stuffed animals. Lots of stickers, though."

"Ooh, stickers!" Garry shoved his free hand in the pocket of his slacks. " _Now_ we're talking. Stickers and charms, I know just the place. We'll find a suitable gift for her in no time!"

A more sensible person might have questioned why they were spending their morning speculating on a good gift for an 11-year old girl instead of preparing for the biggest interview of their life, but Garry didn't often consider himself entirely sensible when it came to grown-up life choices. Even less so when he was drowning in indecision. The only thing that mattered to him in this very moment was being near Ib. He still had plenty of time for the interview.

When Garry glanced to check that the girl was at his side, he noticed Ib lagging behind, one of her hands clenched at her chest. Garry raised his brows. "Ib?"

The girl looked up with her eyes blown wide, as though she hadn't realized she had stopped walking. A rare look of fluster tinting her cheeks rose, Ib quickly resumed her pace, stealing a spot snugly at Garry's side. "Let's go, then," the little girl said, taking a big bite of her crepe.

.

.

.

Garry had never seen someone so pleased to be holding stickers.

The jingle of the shop door marked their departure. Ib was still staring at the plastic-wrapped sheets of cute stickers clutched in her hands, inspecting them thoroughly. Garry followed her out of the store, smiling. "She'll love them, Ib."

Ib hummed, sliding the stickers in their paper bag. "I hope so."

"You'll have to tell me her reaction when you give them to her. Something tells me she'll be very emotive." Garry chuckled.

Ib carefully folded the top of the paper bag to close it securely. "Garry?" The little girl's voice was soft but bold, slightly hard to hear as the wind was blowing her words away. "Uhm… Can we sit down for a minute? Over there?" She pointed to a bench sitting between two thin trees sprouting out of the pavement. Garry followed her finger, nodding.

"Ah, of course. Are you feeling okay, Ib?" Garry asked. "Is there anything the matter?"

"N-no, I just… Uhm, I want to… Let's just sit down, and I'll show you."

Garry followed the little girl to the bench, sitting himself down beside her once she'd chosen a spot. To most, her behavior might have seemed nervous. To Garry, it seemed like she was struggling with how to accomplish something. He rested his forearms on his knees, giving her a patient smile. "Ib…?"

Ib turned to Garry, her expression set in determination. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand." she instructed suddenly. Garry blinked at her in surprise, but obeyed without question.

"This is certainly unusual, Ib…" he chuckled. Ib pressed something cool and vaguely round into his palm, and Garry curled his fingers around it gently. "May I open my eyes?"

"You may," Ib replied politely, and Garry popped one eye open, then the other, rolling the item between his fingers to inspect it. A blue rose pin, just like Ib's in red.

"Oh, Ib… You got this for me?" Garry asked, protectively clenching the item in his fist. Ib nodded, though she looked uncharacteristically uneasy.

"Do you like it?"

Garry touched his fingers to the girl's face, smiling warmly at her. "I _love_ it! I hadn't expected Ib to get me a gift today… Thank you. I really do love it. I'll treat it with utmost care."

Ib's face lit up. She folded her hands in her lap, her cheeks tinged a pleasant pink. "I'm glad. Blue is a rare color, so I wasn't sure I'd be able to find one."

"Oh?" Garry pinned the rose to his shirt, fussing with it until it was perfect. "I hope you didn't go to too much trouble, Ib…"

Ib shook her head, one of her twin tails falling over her shoulder. "I didn't have to look for too long. I got really lucky. Jennifer and I found this really hidden antique shop along Center road, and the nice man inside had a blue one."

"I see," Garry grinned, reaching out to affectionately trail his fingers through Ib's silky hair. "That _is_ lucky. Hidden antique shop, though? Sounds like quite the adventure."

"It was!" Ib's smile disappeared, replaced with surprise and perhaps a dash of guilt. "Oh, but… I wasn't supposed to say too much about it. Gray said he likes to keep his shop exclusive."

A flicker of worry bloomed in Garry's chest. "Who is Gray, Ib?"

Ib swung her legs on the bench. "The owner of the shop. He reminds me of you. When I first saw him, I thought he was you, Garry."

"Really? How strange." Garry rubbed his chin. "Well, remember to be careful in places that don't have a lot of people around, okay? If you go back there, make sure someone goes with you."

"I don't think you have to worry," Ib replied with a smile. "But I'll be careful."

"Good." Garry smiled back, pulling Ib into a one-armed hug. "Thank you again, Ib. I'm glad that you thought of me. So glad..." Ib's hair brushed his nose, and Garry caught the sweet fruity scent of the little girl's shampoo. He wished he could express to her how glad he was to see her safe and sound, but telling her his dream would only trouble her. Garry didn't want to recount it, anyway. He wanted to forget. Ib's small hands hugged around Garry's middle, her voice adorably muffled in his shirt.

"So you really like it?" she asked again. Garry laughed, pulling away enough to smile down at her.

"I do." he tapped her nose gently, as he so often did. "I'll wear to my interview later, for good luck!"

_...Dammit. Me and my big mouth._

"Interview?" Ib asked, staring up at Garry with round, inquisitive eyes. Her lips parted to issue an excited gasp. "Do you have a job interview, Garry?"

"Ah…" Aside from being furious with himself, Garry couldn't decide how to proceed. He'd wanted to keep quiet about the whole thing until it was over, for fear of causing unnecessary worry. Now that the cat was out of the bag, he supposed he had no choice but to come clean. "Yes. Sorry I didn't mention it. I was nervous about it all, I guess…"

"Is it someplace good?" Ib asked, clenching her hands at her chest.

"Hah… Very good, actually. Um, Ib, do you remember me telling you about a company called Wahre Kunst?"

Ib's eyes rolled up in consideration. "Mm… Oh," She popped a small fist into her hand. "That big fashion company?"

"Mhmm, the very one."

Ib gasped again. Her cheeks were absolutely flush with excitement; somehow, it made Garry feel wicked. "You have an interview with such a big important company?"

"Now now, let's not get all excited. After all, many people in my field are clammering after a chance to work somewhere like Wahre Kunst… I'm not expecting anything to come of this, but it's a lucky opportun-"

"You'll do great!" Ib exclaimed with a rare note of passion. "I know you'll really impress them! You have to, you're so amazing… There's no way they won't hire you!"

Garry nearly felt like he could cry. Admittedly, that wasn't such an unusual sentiment for him, but now it was the result of cutting guilt. Would she still be supporting him if she knew how far away it would take him? Well, of course she would… Ib was a kind girl. She was always thinking of others over herself. In fact, of the two of them, Garry was positive he was the most selfish.

"Thank you, Ib…" Garry took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "You're my good luck charm, after all. I'm sure if you believe in me that much, then-"

" _Whoa_ , s'that guy over there dating an elementary school kid?" An obnoxious voice nearby cut through their conversation, coming from two high-school aged boys snickering from the other side of the walkway. Garry felt like every muscle in his body had solidified at once.

"Looks like it. Hey, don't judge. Girls that age are pretty cute, don't you think?"

"I guess. Not 'developed' enough for me, though."

Garry clamped his hands over Ib's ears, his heart racing painfully in his chest. They needed to leave, but he worried the miscreants would follow.

"Pssh, I don't care about that stuff. Think about how tight they'd be!"

"Shit, dude. You're such a lolicon. Do tits mean _nothing_ to you?"

"-And _squishy_ , I bet they're super soft and squishy. Heh, should we ask that guy? He'd probably know, considering he can't keep his hands off her..."

A break in the stream of utter garbage the boys were spewing marked their time to leave. His pulse pounding furiously in his ears, Garry stood up and took Ib's hand in his, urgently tugging her in opposite direction. "Let's go, Ib. There's a park nearby, we can-" Ib's small hand slipped out of his, and Garry whirled on his heel to see Ib striding toward the hooligans with purpose. Realizing what was happening, Garry hurried after her to prevent whatever was about to happen from happening. " _Ib-_! Ib, come back-"

Ib planted her feet firmly just in front of the boys. "Apologize." she demanded coolly.

The boys looked down at her in surprise, exchanging amused chuckles before responding. "What's that?" one of them answered her with a grin, curling his hand mockingly around his ear.

"I asked you to apologize, please. You said mean things about Garry, right? Apologizing is the right thing to do."

"Ib, what are you _doing_?" Garry grabbing Ib by the shoulders and steered her away, bending over to speak more softly. "You shouldn't speak to strangers, especially such unfavorable ones as them! It's not-"

"But they said mean things, didn't they?" Ib replied seriously. "You covered my ears and everything. I'm tired of people saying mean things when they don't understand."

Holding her firmly by the shoulders, Garry sought to more effectively lead the girl away from the boys, keeping her in front. "I know, Ib… And I'm flattered, but talking to them won't do anything. Don't give them the satisfaction."

"Hey!" One of the boys yelled from behind them, cupping his hand around his mouth to amplify his words, "You got like a rental situation going on with her? If I gave you $10, would you give me twenty minutes?"

 _Dammit_.

Garry's feet stopped. His mind went fuzzy, as though it had suddenly been flooded with white noise. Ib turned her head to look up at Garry with innocent confusion shining in her eyes.

"Garry, what does 'rental' mean?" she asked him. Garry looked down at her, at a loss for words, fury shaking his bones apart.

"Make it $20 for the both of us!" chimed the other boy as the two of them dissolved into vile laughter. "We can test out that tightness. Unless you've already loosened-"

Garry's fist connected with the boy's face, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sound it made was profound and not at all what Garry expected. The boy's hat flew off and landed in the street and his body crumpled like a ragdoll, his hand flying to his face. Garry was seething. He couldn't ever remember being quite so angry, even years ago when his life was at its absolute lowest. He couldn't stand to hear Ib being talked about in that way, no matter what.

He barely felt it when a fist shot out and nailed him in the jaw. Garry wasn't some hardened badass by any means, so he could only attribute his numbness to mindless rage. He turned on his attacker and punched him directly in the nose, his knuckles cracking painfully against cartilage. The boy yelped and stumbled back, tripping over his friend and landing on his back.

Before Garry realized what was going on, his hand was snatched in a pair of much smaller hands and he was being dragged away from the scene at full speed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that Scarlet the bunny will make sense eventually. Someday. I PROMISE


	7. Ib

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ib begins learning to cope with grown-up feelings, except not at all.

"Garry, what does 'rental' mean?"

Ib was sure she'd heard the word before, but she wasn't certain what it had to do with them, or what sort of an insult it could possibly imply. It seemed silly to her - like a half-baked attempt - but when she looked up at Garry's face, his expression was something she hadn't seen before. It was shock and anger mixed together, painting his expression into something unfamiliar and frightening.

"Make it $20 for the both of us!" The boys laughed as though they were enjoying a great joke. Ib still didn't understand. She was about to suggest they leave so that Garry wouldn't become more upset when suddenly Garry's hands left her shoulders and he turned, marching toward the boys so quickly she could barely process what was happening. "We can test out that tightness. Unless you've already loosened-"

Garry punched the boy who was talking. The boy fell hard to the ground, groaning in pain. Ib stood, her feet rooted the ground, watching the event unfold as if it were a program on TV. She felt powerless and terrified. Garry wasn't a violent person, he _wasn't_ … What in the world did they say to make him…?

The other boy punched Garry in return. Ib squeaked in fear, covering her hands over her mouth. Though he'd been punched full in the face, Garry barely budged. Before Ib could begin to think about how to stop what was happening, Garry sent the other boy tripping over his friend, and the two of them lay in a groaning pile on the ground.

Ib looked around, realizing it was the middle of the day in a moderately populated part of town. There was hardly anyone around, but the altercation had caught the attention of a small group exiting the store they had shopped in before. Ib's heart froze in terror when she saw one of the women pull out her phone.

Without considering it further, Ib sprang forward, grabbed Garry's hand in hers and took off running. She had no idea where they were headed, so long as it was far away from here. People got into big trouble for fighting… 'Assault' was what it was called. Ib heard about it on the news a lot. She couldn't let Garry get in trouble for hitting those boys, no matter what.

Ib ran until her lungs felt like they were going to explode. They had long escaped the scene of the crime and had been racing through a residential area, surrounded by moderately posh houses and handsomely trimmed shrubs. Ib stopped running just next to a tall wooden privacy fence, releasing Garry's hand to catch her breath. Beside her, Garry dropped to his hands and knees, dragging deep gulps of air into his mouth.

"I can't… believe… how stupid…. I am…." he wheezed, shaking his head. "Ib… I'm so sorry…"

Ib was too winded to answer. She hadn't run like that since the cursed gallery, and even then sometimes Garry carried her. Strenuous physical activity did not fare well with her, by any means.

"Ib…" Garry managed to pull himself up halfway, his knees still firmly planted in the grass. When he looked at her, Ib could see the side of his mouth beginning to redden. She hoped it wouldn't bruise. "Ib, are you okay? That must have been scary… And it's all my fault, I'm so terribly sorry. I acted so immaturely I can scarcely believe that was _me_ and not someone else entirely…"

Ib shook her head, and she tried to open her mouth to answer but her lips trembled too badly and she had to stop. She could feel water pooling in her eyes, but she couldn't understand why. Was she sad? She didn't feel particularly sad. What was this feeling consuming her, preventing her from speaking? A tear slid down her cheek, and Garry's expression changed in an instant. It was almost a relief. Like he was back to his old self.

"Oh- Oh _no_ , Ib, I'm _so_ sorry… Making a girl cry is just… I'm the worst. Please, Ib, forgive me…? I shouldn't have resorted to violence, I know that violence is _never_ the answer."

"Not you," Ib managed to say through tears, trying to wipe her face with mildly trembling fingers.

Garry extended a hand hesitantly; Ib could tell he was worried she was afraid of him. She could never be afraid of him, didn't he know that? Ib stepped closer, allowing Garry to cup her cheek. She placed her hand over his, struggling to keep her tears at bay. Seemingly reassured by her gesture, Garry gently pulled Ib into a firm hug. Ib pushed her face into his neck, quietly crying as he held her.

"Ib…Oh, oh dear, I'm so sorry…"

Ib shook her head but said nothing. She couldn't understand why she was crying. It felt like she was overflowing somehow, like all of the fear and anger she'd felt was bleeding out in the form of tears.

"Garry got punched…" she managed to squeak out miserably. Garry squeezed her gently.

"Y-yeah… Understandably so. Ib… Is that what's gotten you so upset?"

Ib nodded, curling herself closer to Garry. She couldn't explain what was troubling her in such simple terms. Seeing Garry being attacked was frightening in ways she couldn't quite articulate, but that wasn't all. She was furious. Why were people so horrible? Children her own age, teenagers or grown-ups - they were all the same. There was a reason Ib strayed from other people and closed herself off just like those rooms in her dreams. It was better to keep people out. All she needed was Garry. Garry understood, Garry would never hurt her.

"Oh Ib… I didn't realize. I'm really alright, I promise. It doesn't even hurt that much. To be perfectly honest, that boy wasn't very strong… If I really think about it, I'm sure I'll have to deal with the fact that I _beat up_ a couple of high-school freshmen. _Me_ , a person in _college…_ " he chuckled sadly. "Still, I can't say I feel guilty about it."

The two of them gently eased apart as Garry went to pull a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped her undoubtedly flushed cheeks and chin. Ib allowed it, her gaze fixed on her feet. "I'm sorry," Ib offered meekly as Garry cleaned her face. Garry lowered the handkerchief, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Ib… What in the _world_ could you be apologizing for? None of that was your fault, not a single bit of it."

More tears pooled in Ib's eyes, but Garry gently dabbed them away before they could paint her cheeks. "I talked to them even though I know I shouldn't have," she explained. "I was angry, and I let my feelings decide what to do."

Garry smiled at her sadly. "Well… That makes two of us." He folded her handkerchief and slipped it back into her pocket, taking her upper arms in his hands and giving them a squeeze. "There's nothing wrong with getting angry. The trick is to deal with your anger in healthy ways, and learn to make good decisions in the moment." Garry covered his face with his hand. "What unconvincing advice, coming from me…"

Ib shook her head. "No, it's good advice. More importantly, Garry," Ib reached out to gently touch Garry's mouth, tracing the pads of her fingers over the reddening flesh, "is this okay? You have that interview later… This didn't ruin everything, did it?"

Garry caught Ib's hand in his, smiling warmly. "No, no. Please don't worry about that okay? I'll put some ice on it, and it'll be right as rain long before the interview. At this point, the only thing that could ruin my day is if I find myself talking with police officers later on." From the sudden shift in Garry's expression, Ib realized she must have gone rather pale. "I'm only joking, Ib… Those boys don't know anything about me, and considering the things they were saying that led to…" He cleared his throat. "Well, that's not important. I'm fairly sure I'm safe. So don't worry, kay?"

Ib nodded, sniffling. Garry smiled reassuringly. "Right. Well, after that fiasco, I think the both of us are a little tuckered out, hm? How about I walk you back home and we have some tea to calm us down before I have to go?"

.

.

.

In the summertime, it got dark very suddenly.

During the Spring and Fall, Ib felt that the progression into night was longer and more obvious. Summer, on the other hand, just got more and more golden until finally dropping into deep blue as if someone had flipped a switch. She liked the golden, but she didn't care for the sudden change. It wasn't as if she was afraid of the dark, she just didn't fancy such jarring transitions.

The sky was a rich, honey gold as Ib stepped out of the car, waiting for her father before they began walking along the sidewalk toward the nearby lot. She watched the sparse clouds above them, wondering if Garry's interview was finished yet… She wasn't sure how long interviews typically took. If she called him later, would he feel like telling her all about it? Or would he be too exhausted?

"I was surprised that you wanted to come along, Ib." her father said with a chuckle. "I figured being out with Garry all day would have tired you out. The bank is quite boring, you know."

Ib hummed, craning her neck back to eye the office building across the street. "Uhm, would it be okay if I went over to a little shop across the street and wait there?" Her father stopped and turned, his mouth set in a thin line.

"I get the feeling that perhaps you came along for a ride, not to spend time with your old man."

Ib felt a small stab of guilt at the accuracy of his words. "If you don't want me to, that's okay…"

Her father sighed through his nose, crossing his arms. He offered her a gentle smile. "Which shop? Point it out to me, so that I know."

Ib turned, raising a hesitant hand to point at the boutique on the other side of the street, opposite the dark, hidden stairs she knew were there. Her father quirked a brow. Ib worried he wasn't convinced.

"A strange choice, but I suppose it's better than listening to dull grown-ups talk about accounts and balances for the better part of an hour." He placed his hand on Ib's head. "Alright, then. Make sure you stay there until I'm done, okay? Don't go anywhere else. Introduce yourself to the workers, so that they can keep an eye out."

"I will," Ib answered.

She'd never intentionally lied to her parents before. As her father walked her across the street to the boutique, Ib's stomach coiled with guilt. When he kissed the crown of her head and told her to enjoy herself, the sensation had turned into a full-blown burning sensation.

She watched her father's retreating back through the front window of the store, waiting until he was through the rotating door of the bank. Only then did she slip out, heading toward the dark, descending stairs nearby.

There was no doll waiting for her this time. As Ib climbed down the stairs and found the bottom, she found the diamond bed was also absent. Had any of that actually happened? It had seemed so clear at the time, but it may have all been a product of the nightmare she'd had earlier in the week. She couldn't imagine what else it could have been.

The antique shop was covered in orange blotches of sunlight, causing the many baubles and globes sitting in the windows to gleam. Ib wasn't entirely sure what compelled her to come to the shop this evening. There were many things weighing on her mind, and though usually she was compelled to talk to Garry about those sorts of things, today she felt she'd troubled him enough.

And just maybe - for the first time ever - she wasn't sure how to tell Garry what exactly was troubling her.

Ib pushed open the door, looking around. Just as before, not a single customer was in sight. Nothing appeared to have moved since last she'd visited; the snake was still slithering languidly in his tank, and all of the mysterious odds and ends cluttered the tables and shelves with no room in between.

"My, look who it is!" A familiar voice rose from behind the counter, and a coil of smoke rose to the ceiling. Gray stepped around the counter to offer Ib a short bow, dressed again in the long, dark coat but wearing a different blouse. He always seemed to manifest from the shadows somehow, hidden entirely until he wanted to be found. "Little Miss Ib, it's such a pleasure to see you here again. What brings you my way?"

Ib smiled and offered a curtsy. "My father is at the bank on an appointment, and I wanted to stop by." She tilted her head. "Are you busy?"

"Tremendously," Gray grinned good-naturedly. "As you can easily see, business is booming." He chuckled, snuffing his pipe on the counter and twirling a strand of smokey hair around his finger. "I'm quite _un_ -busy, it seems. Miss Ib, I'm over the moon that you would keep me company." He swept a hand toward the counter. "Come, come. Would you like to sit down? I can fetch you a chair, if you'd like."

"Yes, please."

Ib watched as Gray disappeared into the backroom through a faded but colorful veil hanging over the door. He emerged moments later carrying a stool under his arm, which he set on the customer's side of the counter. Ib sat herself down, folding her hands in her lap.

"Thank you."

"You are quite welcome," Gray smiled and sat opposite her, picking up his pipe. Being this close, Ib couldn't help but study his face again; he really did look just like Garry aside him his hair's color and length. Ib had never seen Garry's natural hair color... Could it be a similar shade to Gray's? Ib had heard stories of twins being reunited years after their separation, could it be something like that?

"My dear, you are staring again," Gray reminded gently. "Do I really resemble your friend that much?"

"S-sorry," Ib once again looked away, her face warm. "I actually wanted to thank you. Uhm, for the blue rose pin. It was very nice of you to give it to me like you did."

Gray laughed through his nose. "It was no trouble, dear. My hope was that you would be able to convey your feelings clearly with that gift." He inhaled on his pipe, turning his head to blow the smoke to the ceiling. Ib didn't care for smoking and found it to be a distasteful habit, but the smoke from Gray's pipe was mystifying in the strangest way. It also smelled curiously like cinnamon. "So? Were you able to, Little Miss?"

Ib's squeezed her hands together. "I… think so."

Gray frowned worriedly. "Oh dear, that doesn't sound very convincing. Did something happen? I do hope he wasn't ungrateful."

Ib shook her head. "N-no. Nothing like that. I was able to give it to him, and he was very happy."

Gray set his chin in his hand, his uncovered eye staring at Ib inquisitively. " _Something_ happened that dissatisfied you, yes?" He set his pipe aside, giving the little girl his full attention. "You can tell me, Miss Ib. I want to help, if I'm able."

Ib set her lips in a thin line, glancing at her lap as if her own hands could save her from her awkwardness. She'd come here today for a reason. She had no idea why, but Gray put her at ease. Ib wasn't sure if it was his similarity to Garry or something else entirely, but she trusted him. She felt he wanted to listen to her. If she thought about it too long it seemed absurd, but it didn't change how she felt.

She took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out slow. "I think I'm…. frustrated."

"Oh?" Gray smiled sadly. "I can hardly imagine you cross at anyone, dear. What has you frustrated, exactly?"

"That's the part I don't really understand." Ib answered honestly. "Can I tell you something about me and Garry?"

"Of course," Gray answered.

"Garry is your age, not my age. When we first met, that didn't matter to me at all. It didn't matter to him, either. We were just happy being around each other. But lately I've been noticing how other people feel. I never used to think about things like that, but now…"

Gray waited to make sure Ib had finished her thought before he spoke. "I see. So, in other words, other people disapprove of a friendship with such a significant age gap. I suppose it makes sense… Though, in the end, your friendships are your own choice, aren't they?"

Ib didn't answer. Saying her feelings in such plain terms was proving to be taxing and only served to confuse her even more. Gray watched her critically for a moment before standing up from his seat, knocking his knuckles against the counter.

"Say, I think this might call for some hot chocolate. With marshmallows, naturally. If you have time, would you like that, Miss Ib?"

Ib looked up and nodded. Gray smiled at her warmly. _Garry's smile_. "It's a plan, then. Come with me, I'll get it started. You get a special VIP tour of the rest of the shop." He motioned for Ib to come behind the counter with him.

Every word Garry and her parents had ever said about strangers echoed loudly in Ib's mind. Still, Ib didn't feel uncomfortable in the slightest. Despite how unwarranted her trust was, Ib couldn't help but feel safe with Gray. She hopped off her stool, walking behind the counter and following Gray as he turned, leading her into the veil. He pulled it aside, gesturing for her to pass through.

"Forgive the mess. I don't have a storage room per se, so many of my finds make their home back here until I have room for them elsewhere."

Ib looked around, her eyes wide in wonder. The backroom was very similar to the rest of the shop, cluttered with eccentric objects of all shapes and sizes. Off to the left there was a small kitchenette with a counter and a stove, and in the center of the room was a small table with a potted plant sitting on top. Nestled in the back corner were a few bookcases bulging with books, with a comfortable looking couch and chair beside them. On the walls there were more paintings covered with blankets just like the big one out in the shop.

"Do you live here?" Ib asked curiously. Gray laughed and led her to the table, pulling out one of the chairs for her. Ib took a seat, and Gray carefully pushed her seat in.

"I may as well," he answered, heading for the kitchenette and opening a cabinet above the shove. He pulled out chocolate and marshmallows, setting them aside. "I admit to spending most of my time here. It's like home to me, I suppose." He pulled a saucepan from under the counter, and began combining the chocolate with water and sugar, all of them simmering together.

"Why do you cover your paintings?" Ib continued, absently playing with one of the long, curled leaves on the plant in front of her.

"They're quite valuable, so covering them helps protect them from dust and age." He glanced over his shoulder at the girl. "Does it bother you?"

"No," Ib was quick to confirm. "I don't like paintings. It's okay if they're covered."

"I see." Gray pulled two mugs from another cabinet, stirring the contents of the pan with a wooden spoon. "Ahh, here we are. Two hot cocoas, coming up." He tapped the spoon against the edge of the pan before pouring the chocolate into the mugs. He carried the mugs to the table, setting one in front of Ib. He held up a finger, wagging it playfully in the air. "Not done yet. The finishing touches…" He danced back to the counter to grab the marshmallows and a small creamer cup. He set them both down and stole the seat to the girl's left. "I like to put the cream in last, with the marshmallows."

Ib smiled gently. "I do too."

"Is that so?" Gray chuckled. "How delightful." He deposited a hearty spoonful of cream in his mug, topping it off with marshmallows, stirring the steaming liquid slowly. Ib followed his example, though she didn't add so many marshmallows.

Gray set his spoon on a small saucer, pursing his lips to blow cool air over his mug. "So, Miss Ib. Forgive me for being so forward, but I believe your problem lies in your friendship with this Garry of yours."

Ib ceased her own blowing, glancing at Gray with wide eyes and a tightly clamped jaw. Gray smiled apologetically. "Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not implying you should stop being his friend, not at all. But the real issue lies with how others perceive your relationship, is that right? If that's the case, then there is not much to be done to ease your irritation. Until you are quite a bit older, people will continue to judge."

Ib lowered her gaze to her mug, her heart sinking in disappointment. She knew that. Of course she knew, but it didn't change how she felt. It wasn't just the judgement of others that bothered her. She couldn't explain it, but there was a whole other layer to her frustration that eluded her no matter how hard she thought it over.

"Perhaps that's not all it is?" Gray inquired, sipping gingerly at his cocoa. Ib felt a pang of anxiety, as though Gray had just managed to read her thoughts. "You seem like a very smart girl, Miss Ib, so I doubt I've said anything you haven't already thought of yourself. Is there something more to this frustration of yours? Perhaps something that pertains solely to your friend Garry?"

Gray's words seemed to dislodge something in Ib's mind. She stared at Gray for a long moment in silent deliberation, trying to organize her new train of thought.

"Y-yes," she admitted. Her mug was too hot to hold between her hands, so she looped her fingers around the ring tightly. "I don't really know how to say it."

"Take your time, dear. There's no rush, okay?" Gray smiled at her reassuringly. "Working through our emotions is never an easy task, even for adults."

Ib ran her finger over the smooth ceramic of the mug's ring. It wasn't only the words that were difficult for her. It was admitting it out loud. For reasons she couldn't identify, it made her feel just a little bit ashamed.

"It must be embarrassing for Garry." Ib explained in a small voice. "Whenever someone says something, he always stands up for me and takes all the blame. It's all because of my age… If I were older, he wouldn't have to worry about spending time with me. Or maybe I could stand up for him, too… Or…" She trailed off, unsure of what else to say, overloaded by her own words.

"Oh, dear," Gray set his mug aside, turning in his seat to face her. "I'm terribly sorry. Such a nasty feeling, to feel you've somehow burdened someone you care for." He smiled at her. "You're a very thoughtful girl, you know. I'm sure Garry isn't worried about that. ' _No relationship worth holding onto comes free from pain_.' Do you know who said that?" Ib shook her head, her eyes wide in interest. Gray winked at her, wearing a sly smile. "Me, just now." he answered. Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach, Ib raised her knuckles to her lips and let loose a giggle. Gray grinned, tilting his head. "Ah, there. I got you to laugh. A smile suits you well, Miss Ib."

Her shoulders still shaking in laughter, Ib couldn't deny that she felt lighter somehow. Nothing had been resolved, but just saying it outloud was like setting something free.

Gray cupped his mug in his hands, smiling at the rising steam. "At any rate, you should tell your friend Garry how you're feeling. It should be easier now that you've said it all out loud." He carefully plucked a marshmallow from the warm liquid, blowing on it before popping into his mouth. "I must say, this Garry is quite lucky to have such a dedicated friend."

Ib swung her legs, sipping her cocoa. She shook her head. "It's the other way around. I'm lucky to have met him. That's why I just want us to get along like we always have."

"I see." Gray swallowed a gulp of hot chocolate, sighing contentedly once he'd lowered his mug. "Miss Ib, could it be that you love Garry?"

The cocoa was warm and smooth going down Ib's throat. She held the mug close to her lips, nodding. "Mmhmm. I love him a lot."

Gray chuckled tenderly, propping his head up on an elbow. "Ah, I meant a different kind of love, you know. An ardent love, something beyond friendship."

"Beyond friendship?" Ib asked, blinking. "You mean the kind of love between married people?"

"Something like that," Gray replied with a smile. " _Romantic_ love."

Something tightened in the pit of Ib's stomach, similar to when Jennifer had shown interest in Garry's lovelife days previous. She glanced down at her lap. "Garry doesn't feel things like that. He told me."

"But _you_ do, is that right?"

Gray's voice was closer than Ib had expected. She looked up, eyes wide in surprise; Gray was leaning forward, his face inches from hers. He reached out to touch the side of her face, his slender fingers featherlight on her skin. His violet eye was fixed on her, his gaze immobilizing. Up this close, the similarity to Garry was uncanny. Ib was unsure if her lack of fear was wrapped up in Gray's appearance or something else entirely, but at present, she was numb. Her heart hammered hard in her chest and her face felt alarmingly hot. Still, she remained where she was. Gray's fingers burned against her skin.

"It must be painful, growing from a child into an adult," Gray mused in a soft voice. "There is so much that remains unanswered, so much you're expected to trudge through on your own. Love manifests itself with or without the guidance of adults or parents… And then what is one to do with such a weighty emotion?" Gray's fingers slipped past Ib's ear, curling behind her head. "Where does all that pain go?"

Gray inched forward, his breath ghosting over her mouth. He smelled like chocolate. Ib's eyes closed, her lashes kissing her cheeks. She didn't want this. She wasn't sure what was happening but she knew it was important, something she should save. Inaction continued to grip her. Her mind felt hazy and far away, like she was in two places at once. She desperately tried to regain control of her mind and body, and her efforts were rewarded by a sudden jerk of her shoulders. Suddenly the presence in front of her was gone, as was Gray's skin against hers. Ib opened her eyes, her legs feeling shaky.

Gray was sitting in his chair as before, his mug in his hands, taking a deep gulp of cocoa. Ib stared at him, her heart still beating wildly. Had she imagined it? She could still feel Gray's fingertips against her cheek in four distinct points, all of them burning with the memory. For a moment, she felt guilty. Even if she'd imagined it, she should have tried harder to put a stop to it, shouldn't she? Was it because Gray looked like Garry? Her stomach felt sick with the thought. To do something so shameless… Had Gray been right about her feelings after all?

"Miss Ib? Are you alright?" Gray's voice snapped Ib back to the present and she started, jostling the objects on the table. Her gaze swept to Gray, sucking her lips into her mouth. She nodded. "My goodness, are you sure?" Gray set his mug down. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to upset you. My line of questioning was very inappropriate. I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."

Ib shook her head, willing herself to calm down. It must not have really happened. She was glad, if not slightly worried. She was sure it wasn't normal to keep imagining such strange things without putting any conscious thought into it. _Aren't those called hallu… hallici…_ She couldn't recall the word, but it was usually associated with crazy people, wasn't it?

"No, it's okay," Ib answered finally. "I'm just a little tired all of sudden."

"Oh?" Gray frowned in concern and turned to face her. "How long is your father's appointment?"

Ib glanced around, her eyes falling on a wooden mantel clock sitting on a low shelf. The clock proved to be unhelpful; none of the hands were moving and inch, and she was fairly sure the time was off by several hours.

"Ah, I'm afraid that clock is rather broken. I believe the time is around 5:30. We've been chatting for about twenty minutes."

5:30. Was Garry all done with his interview by now? How long did interviews usually take, anyway? "Papa said his appointment was until six."

"I see." Gray stood up, taking his empty mug back to the kitchen counter. "In any case, if you are very tired, you shouldn't push yourself. You could take a nap on my couch, if you'd like. I wouldn't mind waking you up in another twenty minutes so that you could be fresh when you go to meet your father."

Ib nearly thought to politely refuse Gray's offer when suddenly her eyelids drooped, and she had to mentally smack herself back to attention. Gray watched her from the kitchen with wide eyes. "My word, you really _are_ quite tired, aren't you? You poor thing."

"I don't want to be rude," Ib said, covering her mouth as a yawn slipped out. The promise of a nap was causing her sudden onslaught of exhaustion to spike. Truthfully, she'd been tired since the moment Garry went to his interview. She supposed it was all the excitement early in the day.

"You are possibly the most polite little girl I've ever met, Miss Ib. I don't believe you've ever been rude in your life, not for a minute." Gray chuckled fondly. "I could understand if napping here would make you uncomfortable, however. Would it be better to go and meet your father at the bank? Maybe he could cut the appointment a little early to take you home."

Ib's fingers tightened around her mug. "U-uhm, would it be okay if I stayed?" she asked hopefully. In truth, she didn't want to leave. Gray put her at ease. She was too tired to speculate on why, she just knew she had come here today for a reason.

Gray smiled at her reassuringly. "Of course, dear. Here, up you go. I'll grab you a blanket." Gray extended a hand to help Ib up. She took it, allowing him to pull her gently to her feet. She noted that her knees were still mildly unsteady. "Come, have a lie down."

Ib walked with Gray to the couch, and he left her when she sat down on it, sinking into the cushions. He disappeared only for a moment before emerging with a thick blanket folded in his arms. "I hope this blanket isn't too scratchy for you," he mused as he unfolded it and draped it over the girl's body. Ib gratefully grabbed it in her hands, lying down and pulling the blanket around her shoulders. Gray leaned over on his knees, offering Ib a smile. "Is there anything else you need, Miss Ib?"

Ib shook her head, her nose brushing the blanket. Laying down had completely exhausted her. Her eyes became heavy, and her limbs felt distinctly like wet noodles.

"I see. You just rest, then, and I'll wake you up in twenty, okay?" Gray patted the girl's head fondly and then stood up, turning to leave. Despite how tired she was, Ib had a sudden surge of urgency. She struggled to sit up, succeeding only in propping herself up on one elbow.

"Gar-Gray?"

Gray turned, eye wide in surprise. "Yes?"

"Thank you," Ib exclaimed, worried that if she didn't say it fast enough she would fall asleep before she could. "Thank you for the cocoa, and for listening to me. You made me feel better. So… Thank you."

Gray grinned. "You are quite welcome. Now, sleep, my dear. Forget all of your worries and sleep."

And she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STRANGER DANGER
> 
> I'm starting to stagger out these chapters a little more, because I'm running out of chapters to post and I'm currently taking a break from working on this story. :3 I still have a few to go, though, and I intend to finish this thing most definitely. I just need a break, considering I wrote the bulk of it in a non-stop burst over two months, lol


	8. Garry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garry's interview goes better than expected.

Garry regarded the scrap of paper he held, squinted at it, and then looked back up at the building in front of him. He did it again, and one last time before he was satisfied. Yes, this was the place where he was asked to meet Mr. White. He hadn't expected it to be such a posh estate. The mansion was taller than it was wide, all red bricks and black windows, a lovely turret protruding from the right side of the structure. Moss crawled up the brickwork, snaking into the corners and under the french windows. The longer he looked at it, the more storybook it became. He could almost imagine Sleeping Beauty slumbering peacefully in the turret, awaiting her prince's kiss.

"This the place?" the taxi driver asked. Garry started, almost having forgotten the cab was still running behind him. Garry turned and offered an awkward smile.

"Ah… Yes, it appears so."

The cab driver whistled. " _Wow_." His eyebrows disappeared above the bill of his cap, and he offered Garry an apologetic grimace. "Good luck, kid."

"Y-yeah. Thanks."

Garry paid the fair, shut the car door and watched the taxi leave down the gravelly drive, feeling rather alone. This estate was located just outside the city - back country, a place that admittedly Garry did not flourish in nor understand - and the fairytale mansion was not particularly close to any house or establishment. All Garry could spy in any direction were trees and roads.

 _If this were a horror movie, I'd be heading right into the prologue_ , Garry mused uneasily. _Although, I'm fairly sure no one ever gets murdered in those movies in broad daylight…_

Garry checked his watch. He was early by only ten minutes, but with no way to kill time, he wasn't sure how to proceed. Hanging around outside seemed vaguely creepy with nothing else around to occupy himself with. Furthermore, he didn't see any vehicles anywhere… Had he somehow arrived before Mr. White? Or had his fears been spot on this whole time, and this was all just an elaborate prank?

Stepping up to the door, Garry nervously adjusted his tie, tightened his grip on his portfolio and raised his hand to knock. His knuckles stopped just shy of the wood; upon closer inspection, the door was open an inch. Surprised, Garry slowly pushed the door open.

Sunlight spilled onto the foyer, shining off of the polished wooden floorboards. The room was rounded and tall, a dazzling chandelier glittering from above. A spiral staircase wrapped around the right side of the room ahead, arching into a lavish balcony on the second floor. Garry looked around, hesitantly stepping into the house. The door creaked closed behind him, the gold handle bouncing gently off of the frame to leave a crack of sunlight gleaming through.

"Hello?" Garry called. "Sorry to intrude, but, uhm…"

Silence answered him. Garry stepped further inside, heels clicking against the floor. Opposite the stairs was a huge framed painting high up on the wall, a spiral of color that caught Garry's gaze as soon as he saw it from the corner of his eye. Paintings in every form tended to send shivers down his spine since their experience at the cursed gallery two year prior, but he couldn't say they scared him anymore. They were more of an unpleasant reminder. This particular painting, on the other hand, unsettled every nerve Garry possessed.

If he had to guess the emotion behind the piece in one word, it would have been "angry". The canvas was a funnel of colors, all of them spiraling together in a hypnotising vortex that covered every inch of the canvas, pulling the viewer in. Garry usually didn't associate a rainbow of colors with emotional destructiveness, but that was all he could feel while looking at it. _Like a horrible tornado of colors_ , Garry thought uneasily.

A silver plaque was fixed to the wall under the painting. It read "Hidden Color". The title seemed confusing. None of the colors were hidden, or at least it didn't seem like it. Garry resisted the urge to step closer.

"Interesting, isn't it?"

A voice spoke suddenly from the balcony above him, echoing through the entry hall like a distant rumble of thunder. Garry let out an unflattering shriek, whirling on his heel. His terrified gaze was directed at the top of the stairs where a man stood, looking down at him with a patient smile. "I'm terribly sorry… I should have made myself known."

"N-no, I, uhh…" Garry righted himself and compulsively fidgeted with his tie. "Ahh… I'm the one who should be sorry, coming in here unannounced…"

The man chuckled, his hand lightly gliding along the railing as he descended the stairs. He looked to be middle-aged with a strong jaw and a head of wavy, sandy hair streaked with gray. He wore a sharp suit but lacked a tie, the first few buttons of his shirt open to expose his collarbone.

"Nonsense. You were very much announced, Mr. Edmonds. It was I who was late." The man reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes sweeping up to find the painting on the wall. "Consuming, isn't it?"

Garry followed his gaze, nodding. "That's... a good word for it." He chuckled embarrassedly. "I was thinking 'angry', but I've never been great at interpreting abstract art myself."

The man appeared at Garry's side, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his slacks. "Art is never one thing or another. It's up to the viewer to interpret what they are seeing as they see fit." He turned to regard Garry with a grin. "Do you agree?"

"Oh, uhm, yes!" Garry turned away from the painting, offering his hand stiffly. "I-It's a pleasure to meet with you, Mr. White."

White took Garry's hand in a firm shake. "And you, Mr. Edmonds. Shall we have ourselves a seat and get down to business?"

.

.

.

As was usual during an important interview, Garry's mind went blank about two minutes in and he answered the questions directed to him as though he were reading scripted lines under extreme duress. His mind felt clouded. Nothing felt real, and his anxiety was clawing its way out from his stomach with every word he spoke, every inquiry he answered. He was thankful his bruised face hadn't become a topic of discussion - he was fairly good with concealer and a brush - because he was certain he wouldn't be able to explain something like that without promptly stumbling all over himself.

"...seen better portfolios overall, but you show promising work, Edmonds. I'd like to hire you for an internship, starting immediately. Six months having you on as a paid intern, and then a guaranteed entry-level position working in visual merchandising. You would be expected to leave for Spain this upcoming weekend. Is that something that would be possible for you?"

Garry's senses came back to him like the sounds of summer once you've pulled your head above water. His heart froze fast in his chest, his entire body going uncomfortably rigid in his seat. He stared at Mr. White across the small, rounded table with wide, unbelieving eyes, heedless of how completely unprofessional he doubtlessly appeared.

"You'd… like to hire me?" Garry asked in a near-whisper, his hands clenching into fists on his knees under the table. "Beyond… an internship? Just like that…?"

Mr. White laughed through his nose, leaning back in his chair. "I _did_ say that, yes. Is there something the matter with that?"

In truth, Garry wasn't sure how to answer. Two years ago, he would have jumped on an opportunity like this without question. What alarmed him the most was how disappointed he was, how much he wished he'd been rejected flat-out. How much easier it would be to fail.

Moving to Spain? _Permanently_? Six months was already almost too much to consider, but leaving Ib's side _for good_?

Garry nervously adjusted his tie. "N-no, it's just… Ah. It's uhh, unexpected, is all. And… sudden. I thought maybe there would be a second interview, or-"

"There _is_ no second interview. This is all there is, Mr. Edmonds. I understand that this is sudden - moving to a new country is never an easy transition - but I was informed you'd been told that this internship would require relocation."

"I… was told." Garry shook his head, lowering his gaze to his lap. He felt absolutely foolish. He was _blowing this_ \- "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. White. I am truly thankful for the opportunity. But…" Garry squeezed his hands together so hard his knuckles bleached white. "...I don't think I can do this, after all. I… There are important things here that I can't give up." Garry bowed his head in apology. "I am so sorry for wasting your time. Really."

Mr. White tilted his head inquisitively at Garry's prostrate form. "Family?" he asked calmly.

Garry raised his head in surprise, not having expected anything less than venomous irritation. "Ah, y-yes, I guess you could say that."

"Girlfriend?"

Garry raised his hands and sputtered a horrified laugh. "N-no, nothing like that! F-family is definitely… the better term…"

Mr. White sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "If it's family, bring them along if it's so heartbreaking to be away from them. There are several ways to skin a cat, or so they saying goes."

Garry smiled sadly. "That's… really not a possibility. Strictly speaking, she's got a family of her own." _And she's eleven years old._ "So…"

"I see, I see. Well, it's none of my business, of course." Mr. White stood up from his chair, offering Garry a pleasant smile. "Would you care for some tea before you leave? It's the least I could do after you've come all this way."

Garry mirrored Mr. White, standing from the table with much less grace. "A-are you sure?" he asked, concerned. "You're… not upset with me, for wasting your time?"

Mr. White chuckled and motioned for Garry to follow him beyond the spiral stairs and into the room beneath the balcony, which appeared to be a charming little kitchen nook decorated liberally with potted plants and delicate china. Mr. White got to work setting up a tea kettle as Garry stood awkwardly aside.

"Not at all." The kettle was filled with water and set on the burner. Mr. White moved to the cabinet above the stove and produced two lovely, matching tea cups. "I quite understand the nature of a young heart. Things don't always go as planned, and sometimes all you can do is trust yourself to do what feels right."

Garry blew a slow, subtle breath through his lips. "That's really good to hear. I'm relieved I didn't… you know, offend you." He glanced around the kitchen, curiously, taking note of the many small paintings cluttering the walls, some of them peeking out from behind the various exotic plants. "Is this your… home?" Garry asked.

"My vacation home. I have family here, as you do. They look after the house while I'm away, but I try and visit as often as I can."

Garry smiled. "Ah… I had no idea I was going to be interviewing in your home. Thank you for having me, in that case."

"You are quite welcome." Mr. White grinned, retrieving a teaspoon from a drawer and tapping it against a wooden box labelled "teas". "Do you have a preference, Mr. Edmonds? Black, green? Peppermint, earl grey? Something more fruity?"

"I'll have what you're having," Garry answered kindly, turning back to the paintings once Mr. White set to work. He might have been more unnerved by the dozen paintings surrounding him on all sides if he hadn't been so overwhelmingly relieved by how things turned out. He stepped closer to one of them, a particularly haunting picture of a pair of people sitting together, leaning on one another with a look of anguish on their grisly faces. _Not an ideal painting for a kitchen, in my opinion…_ Garry squinted to read the title etched into the frame: 'Regret'.

Garry looked away and chewed on his bottom lip. Regret, huh. He was trying hard not to think about his rather rash decision to abandon his lifelong dream just moments ago, but now that the relief was fading and coherency had begun to return, he couldn't help but feel sour about the whole thing.

"Forgive me for prying, but you look as though you're a bit torn." Mr. White said gently. Garry's eyes swept up to regard the man in surprise. "Tell me, why did you come here today? You can't have come to this interview fully intending to turn down my offer, after all."

Garry shook his head, lowering his gaze to the floor. He wanted to be anywhere than where he was right now. If he could have disappeared, he might have considered it if it weren't such a rude way to end the conversation. He thought about brushing off the question, but somehow he could feel the truth overflowing from his throat and spilling over his tongue before he could stop himself. "I came because I thought sure I would be rejected. Or at the very least, I would be told to wait for a second interview, and I would… I don't know. Have more time, maybe. To figure out what I want." He sighed, raking his fingernails methodically across the back of his neck if only to give his idle hand something to do. "I came because I wanted to pretend I wasn't a coward."

Mr. White listened quietly, taking the kettle from the burner and carefully pouring water into the waiting cups. "I don't think you are a coward, Mr. Edmonds. Change is a frightening thing. Change moves mountains, it destroys nations. There is nothing cowardly about fearing such a thing." He dropped the infusers into the steaming water, picking up both cups and setting them gently on the small table near the windows. Garry politely joined him, thanking him quietly for his cup. "If I might ask, this 'important something' you must remain for who is neither blood family nor a significant other… Is it that they cannot live without you? Or can you not live without them?"

Garry froze, staring into his tea with wide eyes and a tight mouth. There it was again, that evil codependency Fiona had mentioned the day before. Garry felt the bitterness rise into his throat like bile. "It's… complicated."

"I see." Mr. White blew over his tea. "Forgive my forwardness. It's none of my business, of course."

"No it's… It's fine." Garry cleared his throat, circling his hands around his warm cup. "It's not exactly that we can't live without each other. It's…" Garry sighed deeply. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Tell me, is this your dream?" Mr. White asked. Garry glanced up to meet the man's gaze. For the first time since they'd started speaking, Garry felt drawn into Mr. White's eyes. They were intense and looked far older than the rest of him. They were a peculiar shade of orange flecked with gold, burning bright in the sunlight, demanding an answer.

"Y-yes." Garry admitted meekly. "Since I was a young boy. I've sacrificed a lot to get where I am."

"Fashion is a form of art, you know, and artists are passionate creatures." Mr. White pointed out gently. "They often place their heart before their head, which can often lead them astray. All I ask is that you consider all of your options, Mr. Edmonds. I would never dissuade someone from listening to their heart, but I also hate to see good talent go to waste."

Garry once again stared into his tea. He really was a coward, wasn't he? Fiona had been right all along. Garry wasn't just scared of leaving Ib, he was frightened of success. He was afraid of screwing up. But he couldn't deny that his affection for Ib was holding him back just as much. The thought of being away from her was unbearable, but what kind of effect could that be having on Ib? Was he shackling her to him without meaning to? He'd never considered it, but he supposed he hadn't _wanted_ to consider it, either. The thought that Ib could easily live without him hurt more than any pain he'd endured in the cursed gallery.

When had he become so goddamn pathetic?

Garry curled his fingers around his cup and raised the steaming liquid to his lips, taking a long drink. He set his cup down, his brow pinched in consideration.

"Mr. White… I'm certain I've already troubled you enough, but may I have until the end of the day to think over your offer?"

.

.

.

Garry rubbed his thumb roughly against his chin, peering through the glass case at the spread of colorful macaroons. He spoke to the clerk behind the counter, pointing out which macaroons he wanted. He chose mostly red, Ib's favorite, and ordered a dozen altogether.

The clerk carefully boxed up the sweets, and Garry paid her, leaving a modest tip. He pushed open the jingling shop door and emerged onto the sidewalk, holding his shopping bag in his fingers, glancing up at the gray sky. He hoped it wouldn't rain, as he hadn't brought an umbrella with him this morning and he had quite a walk home.

Garry flipped open his phone, going to his contacts. Mr. White's number glared up at him from the screen, a reminder of the call he still needed to make and the conversation they'd shared the day before. Garry's stomach flopped sourly, clicking away from that name. He chose Ib's home instead, lifting it to his ear and listening to the ring with his heart in his throat.

"Hello, D'Amore residence."

"Ah, good morning, Genavieve. Is Ib around?" Garry asked, walking just on the edge of a haphazard group of people crossing the street.

"Garry dear, good morning," Genavieve answered sweetly. "She's right here. Hold on just a moment." The familiar scratchy sounds of a receiver being passed around rang in Garry's ear just before a soft voice spoke, making Garry's heart seize up with both affection and guilt.

"Garry?"

"Good morning, Ib," Garry smiled, gripping the bag of macaroons a little tighter. "How did you sleep?"

"Mm, really good," In the background, Garry could hear the scraping of silverware on plates. "I can't even remember falling asleep, but I slept for a long time."

"That's good to hear," Garry mused, raising a hand in thanks to a passing car that had been kind enough to stop for him as he crossed a side road.

"How did your interview go?" Ib asked curiously. Her mother's muffled voice piped up in the background, "Garry had an interview!" Garry hated himself instantly.

"Well… Ah, it went well. Say, Ib, did you have plans after school? I was thinking I could pick you up and you could do your homework at my place. I could make us some dinner, too."

He could _hear_ Ib's disposition brighten on the other end. Garry felt sick with himself. "Okay! Oh…" Ib paused, contemplating. "I forgot, I'm going over to Jennifer's house after school to do homework. Could I still come over for dinner?" Again, Ib's mother piped up sternly, "Don't you think you're asking the wrong person, Ib?"

"That's fine by me, if your parents are okay with it," Garry chuckled. The receiver once again clicked and buzzed with movement, and Garry overheard the muffled conversation between Ib and her parents. It was no surprise that they easily agreed.

"They said yes," Ib chimed.

"Do you want me to pick you up from Jennifer's house?"

"Mm mm, I'll be fine."

Garry pressed the phone a little more tightly against his ear. "Alright, just be safe getting there, okay?" _I have something really important I have to tell you. Why is it so hard to just say it?_ "I'll see you later, Ib. Have a good day at school."

.

.

.

At quarter after five, there was soft knocking on the door to Garry's apartment. Garry hadn't been expecting Ib so early, so when he opened the door to a slightly damp little girl who was struggling to get her umbrella closed, he couldn't stifle a horrified gasp as he rushed to pull her inside.

"Ib, you're all wet!" Garry exclaimed, helping the little girl with her flower-printed umbrella. "I didn't realize it was still raining… You should have called me, I would have come picked you up!" Garry rested Ib's umbrella next to the door. "Were you paying attention on your way here? You really shouldn't be this wet if you were using your umbrella… I'll grab a towel for you, kay?"

Garry turned to face her, realizing she hadn't yet issued a word. Ib's shoulders were damp - one more so than the other - and the ends of her hair were curled and sticking to her shirt, bleeding water into the fabric. Her expression was downcast and vaguely pale. She looked almost like she wasn't sure where she was, or that she was trying to hold back tears. Concern crawled into Garry's stomach. "...Ib? Are you okay, hun?"

Before Garry could utter another word, Ib rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly around the middle. Garry staggered backward, instinctively wrapping the little girl in his arms while staring in surprise at the top of her head. Guilt gripped him. An irrational part of him thought maybe she knew what he'd invited her over to tell her, though he knew that was impossible. Regardless, Garry hadn't been expecting Ib to be upset _before_ he'd actually managed to talk to her about… _that_.

"My goodness, Ib, what's wrong? Did something happen on the way over? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Ib shook her head, pressing her face hard into Garry's stomach. She wasn't shaking or crying, at least. Garry smoothed a hand over the back of her head, fingers tangling in her mussed hair. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Ib finally pried her face from Garry's shirt, staring up at him with a neutral expression, suspiciously calm. "It's nothing." she said, though she looked oddly pallid. "I'm glad to see you."

Garry smiled, touching her face gently. "O-oh, is that all?" He chuckled, though he couldn't shake his concern. "You had me worried, Ib."

Ib cast her eyes down, pulling away in obvious embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"No no, Ib, it's fine," Garry knelt down, taking her hands in his. "Don't apologize. But… Are you sure nothing's wrong? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

It took Ib a good minute to find Garry's eyes and hold his gaze. Her lips pulled into a small, nearly untraceable smile and she nodded her head. "I know. Everything's fine, Garry. Promise."

Garry thought that smile looked vaguely forced, but the last thing he wanted was to pry. Ib had never been reserved about telling Garry what was on her mind before, so he had no reason to think she might hold back now. If there was something wrong, all she needed was time, and he was sure she would come around.

 _Time_. Garry's heart squeezed into a painful knot. He supposed time wasn't really a luxury the two of them had anymore.

"Garry?" Ib's small fingers squeezed Garry's hand, her crimson eyes suddenly round and attentive. "Your eyes have gone all glossy."

"Oh?" Garry blinked away the threat of tears and offered a smile. "That's strange, isn't it?" He lay a playful kiss to the top of Ib's hand and stood up, clearing his throat. "I still haven't gotten you a towel! You must be freezing by now. Come on hun, we'll get you dried off and then I'll get dinner started. You're earlier than I thought you'd be, so you can help me get things prepped!"

.

.

.

Throughout dinner, Ib had seemed to perk up considerably. Garry wondered if anything had really been wrong in the first place, but that question became increasingly unimportant as the evening went on and the crushing reality of what Garry needed to tell her pressed down on his throat like the blunt edge of a knife. The plate of macaroons he brought out for them to enjoy after dinner seemed like a filthy bribe of some kind. A sugary treat to distract from bad news, like a parent placating their child after a favorite toy broke. It made him feel oddly wicked.

"Garry?" Ib was draped over the arm of Garry's sofa, kicking her legs in the air behind her while nibbling on a red macaroon. "You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Huh?" Garry realized too late that he'd gone eerily quiet. He sat rigidly in the armchair facing the couch, his own macaroons uneaten and sitting ignored on the coffee table. "Ah, oh, yes. That's… yes."

"Is it about your interview?" Ib rolled off of the arm, sitting properly on the couch to face him.

Garry smiled sadly. "Y-yes, it is."

Ib's expression melted into something sympathetic. "Did it… not go well?" she asked worriedly.

"No, no it… It actually went a lot better than expected."

Ib's eyes lit up with what looked like a mixture of pride and excitement. Garry's stomach flopped unpleasantly. "Did they like you? Did Garry get the job?" the little girl asked, leaning forward, swinging her legs.

Garry had a wild urge to forget the whole thing. Call Mr. White, refuse his offer _again_ , and just pretend that none of this had ever happened. Several things surfaced in his mind to quell that urge, many of them involving rent and his current status as tragically unemployed, even more of them involving the echoing words of Fiona and Mr. White. Particularly the word _codependency_ , and what sort of effect that word might be having on Ib.

Ib, the charming, sweet little girl sitting across from him now, bright-eyed and supportive of her friend. God, he needed to say this before he absolutely couldn't.

Garry stood and joined Ib on the couch, sitting just next to her, avoiding her eyes. Out of his peripheral he could see her peering up at him with curious eyes, shrugging her shoulders up to better see him.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush. I got the job, somehow. It's a 6-month internship leading into an entry-level position at that big company I was telling you about." Ib's mouth opened and the beginning of an ecstatic cheer formed as a sweet gasp. Garry couldn't bear to let her cheer for him before he'd finished. He'd misled her quite enough, lately. "The job is in Spain. I'm moving to Spain, uhm, soon. At the end of the week, actually."

The cheer died before it had even started. A foreign silence permeated the air, boring into Garry's skull like a banshee's screech. He chanced glancing at her, his eyes scanning her features desperately for any clue as to what she was feeling. He immediately regretted it. Garry once swore to himself that he never wanted to see the light leave Ib's face ever again, not after seeing her break down in the cursed museum after seeing the portrait of her parents in the drawing room.

Ib looked as though she'd been frozen by some otherworldly force. Her eyes were round and fixed purposefully on Garry's face as if waiting for the punchline. When none came, her pinkish lips parted to form a small, delicate 'o' of disbelief, her brow twitching behind her long bangs.

"Garry's…. leaving?" Ib asked in a small voice. Garry wanted to hug her, but he didn't dare.

"N-not forever," Garry choked, shaking his head. "I mean… I _will_ be moving there, and living there… B-but I'll definitely visit as often as I can! And I'll write, and call and…" This was painful. No, this was torture. It felt wrong, it felt like the world was crumbling. How could leaving an eleven year old girl feel like this? Was something wrong with him, or…?

Ib lowered her gaze to her lap, folding her hands together tightly. Garry felt sick. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted to reverse time, he wanted to hang up on that representative who called him at the lake - _no_ \- throw his damn phone _in_ the lake-

"That's… so good, Garry!" The voice that came out of Ib was like someone else's. The little girl's shoulders were shaking and her hands were squeezing the life out of each other, but the words spilling from her lips were trying hard to sound encouraging. "It's what you've been working for all this time, right? It's your dream, right?" Droplets of water fell from Ib's hidden face. Garry's breathing hitched. He'd done this. This was his fault, what Ib was feeling now. How could he fix this? How could he possibly make this better?

"Ib… I'm so, so sorry _please…_ Please don't cry," Garry rose his hand to move aside some of Ib's hair, and she flinched away. Something sharp pierced Garry's heart. He wasn't sure what to do. Comforting Ib had always been so easy. He'd never been the source of her pain before. "I-Ib…"

"I'm really happy for Garry," Ib continued, her words increasingly shaky and hard to understand. "I really want Garry to be happy, s-so…"

"Ib, please," Garry was too afraid to try touching her again. Too afraid to be rejected. "Please look at me, let's talk about this, okay? You don't have to act so strong… I really want to explain why-"

Ib stood up abruptly, turned away, wiping at her face. "I don't need to hear anything," she said, her voice suddenly sharp and spiked with emotion. "I don't _want_ to hear anything."

"Ib-"

" _No_!" Her facade shattered like a glass ornament, laying dangerous shards over the ground. "I don't… I can't…" She turned to face him, her face flushed, tear-streaked and contorted in a heart-rending mixture of anger and sadness. Garry was struck silent, shocked to see her in such a state of disarray. "You promised! You promised we'd always be together, and now…" She wiped her face on the back of her sleeve, no longer trying to hold back the tears that quickly replaced the ones she'd cleaned away. Her whole body trembled, a testament to her misery, and Garry stood up, clueless as to how to help.

"Ib, please…"

He reached out to touch her and his hand was batted away. The little girl turned on her heel, hiding her face in her arm, headed for the door. Without another word, she threw the door open and dashed out of the apartment.

Garry was so stunned he'd forgotten how his legs worked. He stared at the open door for a short, brainless moment before his senses returned and a surge of panic hit him like a lightening bolt. He made a break for the door, only stopping to haphazardly pull his shoes on before throwing himself out onto the second floor balcony, slamming the door behind him.

"IB!" Garry made for the stairs, taking them two at a time, trying to spot Ib's form on the street below through the sheets of rain. She didn't even have her umbrella, _or_ her jacket… Garry's heart was in a stranglehold. This was all his fault. How could he have sprung this on her so thoughtlessly? There were a million ways he could have delivered the news, why did he always expect her to be stronger than he knew she was? She was just a little girl, for chrissake. Of course this would hurt her, of _course_ it would!

The rain came down harder, plastering Garry's bangs over his eyes. He irritably swept his hair back, looking wildly in every direction. She _had_ to be somewhere, she couldn't have just vanished. He called for her again, louder, his voice unmistakably panicked; amidst the gloomy grey backdrop surrounding him on all sides, he thought he saw the flash of a school-issued skirt turning the corner heading for center road.

Without hesitation Garry tore off down the street, the rain savagely pounding him from above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D: oh dear


	9. Ib

The bell sounded, marking the end of the school day. Children poured out of the school in tight droves, some of them hurrying to their cars to avoid the oncoming rain, some of them struggling with umbrellas and jackets in preparation. Ib and Jennifer were already past the gate and heading for the adjacent sidewalk when Ib stopped, feeling drops of water on her cheeks.

"Oh." Ib held out her palm to the sky, tiny droplets of water tapping against her skin. "Rain."

Jennifer shielded her eyes with her hand, staring through the break in her fingers at the gloomy afternoon sky. "Ib, did you bring an umbrella? If not, you can share mine."

Ib shook her head and pulled her umbrella out of her bag, working on opening it just as the rain started to come down more persistently. "I brought one."

Jennifer opened hers as well, squeezing close to Ib's side so that their umbrellas pressed together, creating a sort of roof effect above them. "My mom should be meeting us at the corner. Let's hurry before it really starts coming down."

The girls quickened their pace, the rain changing from a delicate tap to a strong drum against their thin plastic umbrellas. They didn't have to wait long before they spotted a sleek, silver lexus hatchback through the oppressive sheets of rain, parked among the other parent's cars awaiting their young passengers. Jennifer made a beeline for the vehicle, opening the back door to usher Ib inside. The girls awkwardly tried to close their umbrellas before tumbling into the back seat, hands and sleeve ends damp from the effort.

A woman with short, dark honey hair and a pinched, sharp face glanced at the girls through the rear view mirror. "Everyone in?" she asked, throwing a look over her shoulder. "Anyone need a towel?"

Jennifer shook her head, wiping her wet hand on her skirt. "No, I think we're okay."

"Buckle up, then." The woman offered Ib a polite smile before turning back to the dash, starting up the car. "Hello, Ib. It's good to see you."

"Hello Mrs. Abel. It's good to see you too." Ib had met Jennifer's mother plenty of times, but it never got less awkward. Mrs. Abel had the distinct air of judgement whenever she was speaking - even when she was saying perfectly ordinary things - and Ib just couldn't quite get used to it. She was sure it was unintentional, but regardless, it was intimidating for a little girl who could hardly tolerate gentle scolding.

"Are you joining us for dinner tonight?" Mrs. Abel asked curiously, pulling out of the parking spot and switching on the wiper blades to clear away the pounding rain. "It's quite alright with me if it's fine with Gena and Walter."

Ib folded her chilly hands in her lap after securing her seatbelt. "Uhm, thank you for the offer, but I have dinner plans already."

"Garry?" Jennifer asked. Ib nodded.

"My, aren't you the busy bee," Mrs. Abel teased. "Will you still be needing me to drive you home?"

Ib shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. I don't need to go very far."

"In this rain?" Mrs. Abel scoffed. "You'll catch a cold, dear. If it's not far, it's no trouble to drive you."

"I'll be fine, I promise."

Mrs. Abel resigned with a sigh. "Alright, dear. Let's hope that the rain eases up before dinnertime."

For the remainder of the short car ride, Ib and Jennifer chatted idly about their classes and teachers and planned out their homework regiment for when they got to Jennifer's house. Ib had done homework with Jennifer before, and for the most part, she enjoyed it. Jennifer didn't tend to get too distracted, even when they were doing maths, and Ib found that she actually liked helping Jennifer with the problems she was finding fault with. Before Jennifer, she'd never had a friend to do homework with, so Ib valued the opportunity even if she tended to study better alone.

Jennifer's house was modern and boldly stylized. Though Ib lived in a big house of her own, Jennifer's home seemed radically fancy in comparison, if only because it looked so different from the european-style houses on either side of it. Mrs. Abel parked the car in their spacious garage, waiting for the children to pile out of the car before ushering them all into the entryway. "Alright you two, shoes off before you step inside. Take your shoes and umbrellas to the cloakroom, don't go tracking water everywhere."

"Okay, mom." Jennifer peeled her shoes off in the doorway, and Ib followed her example, hooking her fingers in the heel of her shoes. "The cloakroom is this way, Ib." Jennifer motioned for Ib to follow, and follow she did, trying her absolute best not to allow a single drop of water to tarnish the plush white carpet under her stockings.

Jennifer led Ib to a hallway Ib had never seen before. It was long, narrow and bare aside from a huge painting that filled much of the wall near the center. Ib fixed her eyes on the ground in front of her feet, a chill running up her spine. It would be fine if she didn't look at it. It would be fine.

Ib tripped over her own feet, awkwardly stumbling forward. Jennifer caught her by the wrist, keeping her upright.

"Ib, are you okay?" Jennifer's brow dipped in concern but her mouth pulled into a smile, keeping a firm hold on Ib's wrist. Ib nodded, her ears heating up in mild embarrassment. Jennifer giggled. "Be careful, would you?" She turned, continuing to lead Ib down the hallway by her arm. Ib felt a certain tightness in her throat when she looked up, seeing the pale hand circled around her wrist, leading her down this narrow hallway in confident steps. Panic crawled into Ib's throat, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Memories of her latest nightmare flooded her brain, making it hard to think. She didn't even realize that they had stepped near the painting, and before she knew what she was doing, Ib's eyes were drawn to the chaotic colors on the long, thick canvas to their right.

Ib's vision flickered. Her panic came out as a gasp that got caught in her throat and an overflowing feeling of horror in her chest; the little girl yanked her arm from Jennifer's grip, backing up so quickly she hit the wall behind her with force, knocking the air from her lungs.

 _The Fabricated World_. The mess of colors was unmistakably the same disturbing arrangement of abstract shapes and figures that Ib had seen two years ago, the painting that triggered the horrible events inside of the cursed gallery. Ib could never forget it, though she wished sometimes that she could.

Ib's brain felt like it was filling with water. She wanted to call for Garry but her voice was stuck painfully in her throat, coming out as a choke. She covered her eyes to block out the horrible image, panic freezing her, obscuring her thoughts. Ib wasn't familiar with feeling so powerless. She felt she was falling, falling, she could feel her consciousness slipping-

"Ib!  _ **IB**_!" Jennifer's voice sounded like it was coming from the far end of a tube. Hands were holding Ib's shoulders, shaking her, and the concerned voice came nearer and became louder until it was blasting directly into Ib's ear, pulling her violently back to the present.

"Ib,  _say something_! Are you okay?" Jennifer's voice was almost like a soft shriek, wavering in panic. Ib pulled her shaking hands away from her face, turning her gaze to the wall in front of them. There was nothing there. The pristine hallway wall was bare aside from ornate light fixtures and the door to the cloakroom, without so much as a framed family picture anywhere in sight. Ib rubbed her teary eyes, unbelieving, and looked again. Still nothing. She should have felt instant relief, but all she felt was helplessness. Why was this happening? Was her mind coming undone?

"Ib!" Jennifer moved in front of her, holding the girl's face in her hands. Ib realized she'd somehow ended up on the floor, and Jennifer was kneeling in front of her, face contorted in concern. "Can you hear me?"

Ib tried to speak, but her voice was stuck firmly under her tongue. She swallowed and tried again. "I'm fine," Ib choked out, scrubbing her eyes on her sleeve again. She felt foolish. Jennifer had just seen her fall to pieces for absolutely no reason, and she couldn't even explain herself without sounding ridiculous.

"You are  _not_ fine!" Jennifer answered. "Should I get my mom? I can-"

"No!" Ib's hand shot forward, grabbing Jennifer's hand. "No… I'm fine, really. Please don't tell your mom."

Jennifer's expression softened, and she placed her hand over Ib's. "Okay."

"I just felt dizzy all of a sudden, is all." Ib tried to explain, unconvincingly.

Jennifer frowned. "What if you're sick? My mom can take you home, if you want. I promise I won't tell her what happened or anything!"

Ib shook her head, trying to will her legs to work. They wobbled beneath her as she stood, but Jennifer helped to keep her steady. "I'm not sick," Ib said, ashamed of the tremor in her voice. "I'm okay. Once we start studying I'll be fine." Jennifer kept a hand on Ib's lower back and the girls slowly and steadily made their way to the cloakroom, dropping off their wet things, and then Jennifer led them out of the hallway to her bedroom. Ib said nothing.

In a couple of hours, she would see Garry. Until then, she needed to focus on homework. Everything would be fine if she could just hold out until then.

.

.

.

The rain lessened when Ib set out to Garry's apartment. Her umbrella swayed above her as she walked, her shoes wet from forgetting to avoid puddles. She thought her shoulder felt wet, but she really couldn't be bothered to investigate the cause. The sounds and sights of the city around her were blurred out, insignificant, surreal, as though they weren't really there. The rain didn't matter. What mattered was getting to Garry's apartment as quickly as possible. Ib needed to see Garry, she needed to hear his voice and remember that they weren't in that place anymore. That they were safe.

The little girl made the trip to Garry's apartment as if she were set on a track. Before she'd realized it she was knocking on the door, dripping water on the balcony, lowering her umbrella to shake the rain off. Only once the door swung open did Ib jolt back to reality, glancing up to meet a very worried looking Garry. As immensely relieved she was to see Garry's face, she felt a stab of guilt for making him worry before she'd even opened her mouth. She was yanked inside immediately and Garry shut the door behind her, blocking out the sounds of the rain.

"Ib, you're all wet!" Garry took her umbrella from her hands, closing it for her. "I didn't realize it was still raining… You should have called me, I would have come picked you up!" Ib's stared at the floor, listening to Garry's voice. It was real. This was real, it wasn't a dream. She was safe if she was with Garry. Everything was going to be okay.

"...Ib? Are you okay, hun?" Garry's voice broke the spell, pulling Ib back to the present. Without a second thought the little girl rushed into Garry's arms, circling her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his shirt. She breathed deeply through her nose, trying to focus on Garry's warmth and smell. It was so familiar and so comforting, she was certain there was nothing to worry about. As long as Garry was with her, it was fine.

Garry held her close but the concern radiating off of him was obvious, and Ib had no intention of making him worry any more than he already was. She didn't want to think about what had happened earlier. She wanted to forget about it entirely.

"My goodness, Ib, what's wrong? Did something happen on the way over? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Ib shook her head, squeezing him more tightly. She wondered if her parents would let her stay at Garry's apartment for the night. She didn't want to leave, she didn't want to think about anything all alone anymore. If she could sleep with Garry near, she knew she'd feel much better.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" Garry asked her softly, stroking her hair lovingly. Ib looked up at him with what she hoped was a neutral expression.

"It's nothing. I'm glad to see you."

.

.

.

"The job is in Spain. I'm moving to Spain, uhm, soon. At the end of the week, actually."

Ib never wondered what it would feel like if the world suddenly stopped rotating before, but now she was sure she knew exactly how it felt. Her stomach froze painfully. Just like that everything broke away, surreal, floating, just like when she'd seen the horrible painting in Jennifer's house, or when she'd seen the terrible black bed outside Gray's antique shop.

"Garry's…. Leaving?" The room was spinning. She was breaking, falling, icy panic filling up her insides until there was nothing left. Garry's words were lost to her. She was watching him speak as if he'd been put on mute.

"That's… so good, Garry!" Words were coming out, but they weren't her own. She felt she'd conjured a mask to hide herself, to keep the last stable piece of her from crumbling into dust. "It's what's you've been working for all this time, right? It's your dream, right?" The words kept coming like sickness from her lips, distracting from the rushing water in her ears. Garry was speaking to her sweetly, an apology, she thought, but she couldn't stop the rush of word vomit. She kept on talking, oblivious to her own words, until she could finally hear Garry clearly again.

"-don't have to act so strong… I really want to explain why-"

Something snapped. Ib stood, the sound of rushing water almost deafening. Something fiery grabbed hold of her heart. She didn't want to hear anymore. Ib knew grown-ups told lies, she'd always known that, but Garry had always been different. He was there for her when no one else was. If even he could lie, then…

"I don't need to hear anything," the little girl snapped pitifully. "I don't  _want_ to hear anything."

"Ib-"

" _No_!" Ib couldn't hear anymore. She wanted the pain to stop, she wanted everything to go back to the way it was. If this was what heartbreak was like, she didn't want to have a heart. "I don't… I can't…" Ib tried to collect her thoughts but she couldn't. "You promised!" she sobbed, "You promised we'd always be together, and now…" Now she was alone. Truly alone.

"Ib, please…"

Ib looked up to see Garry reaching for her. She swatted his hand away, sick with herself for carrying on like this, ashamed to face him. Without a thought, Ib turned and fled like she was being chased, making a blind rush for the door. With trembling fingers she banged the door open, nearly stumbling over the threshold in her panic. Heedless of the rain, Ib ran along the balcony and down the stairs, as fast as her feet would carry her, Garry's concerned voice fading into the rainy backstreets.

.

.

.

Without direction, without a plan, Ib ran through the muggy evening streets, pushing her body well beyond her known stamina limits. When she came to her senses, she found herself somewhere familiar, having somehow ran all the way to the bottom of the stone staircase leading to Gray's shop. Her lungs burned like they were on fire. Sopping wet and gasping for breath between weak sobs, Ib padded forward and leaned her head against the door, her hand clutching her chest. She wasn't sure why she had come here. If anything, Ib wasn't sure where else to go. She couldn't face Garry like this, and she couldn't fathom burdening Jennifer after her embarrassing break-down in the hall. Going home sounded no better. In the state she was in her parents were sure to be beside themselves, and considering the events, the blame would end up falling to Garry.

No, she absolutely couldn't allow it. None of this was Garry's fault. It was hers. She was weaker than Garry gave her credit for, for such a small thing to turn her world upside down. If Garry wanted to pursue his dream, she should be happy for him. So why did it hurt so much? Why was there a hole boring through her heart?

Ib absently squeezed water from the fabric of her skirt and hair, knowing full well that doing so would not help her to look any more presentable. When she'd managed to stop crying, she pushed open the door and stepped inside the shop, the familiar clanking bells marking her arrival.

The little girl cast her eyes around, the counter devoid of its usual occupant. Ib's heart flopped unhappily in her chest, and she hugged her wet arms, rubbing them to keep the chill at bay. She thought to call out, but she wasn't sure such a thing was appropriate.

"Miss Ib, my  _goodness_ , what's happened?"

Ib turned to see Gray standing at the back of the store, next to the covered painting. He hurried to her, his expression gravely concerned. He was dressed in a feminine blue low-cut blouse covered by his usual long dark coat, his jewelry the same as it always was. "My heavens, just look at you! You're soaked through!" Gray knelt before the girl, taking her cold hands in his and rubbing them together. "You're  _freezing_! Miss Ib, are you quite alright?"

Just like Garry would do. Everything was the same, from the tone of voice to the tender concern in his actions and words. Ib burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands.

"Garry's leaving," the little girl sobbed miserably, her emotions overflowing. "Everything is  _wrong_ and I… I…." Before she could say any more, she was being embraced by long, warm arms. Ib shamelessly buried her face in Gray's coat, crying hard and without reservation.

"There, there," Gray cooed in her ear, holding her tight, "just let it all out, you'll feel much better."

After several moments, Ib managed to pull herself together enough for Gray to gently pull away. He wiped some of her tears away on his sleeve, offering her an encouraging smile. "There, now. How about I find you something dry to wear, hm? You'll catch your death if you sit around in these wet clothes. I have a whole chest of vintage clothes in the back, I'm sure there will be something suitable." Ib sniffled and nodded her head. "And when you've calmed down some, you can tell me what happened over some hot chocolate. Sound good?"

.

.

.

Ib hadn't realized how cold she actually was until Gray found her some warm clothes to change into. The smell of chocolate wafted to the little girl from Gray's kitchenette, promising to warm her insides as much as her outsides.

Gray set down two mugs of hot chocolate on the table, flashing her a tame smile. "Are you feeling more comfortable now?" he asked. "Warm enough?"

Ib nodded, cupping her hands around her mug to warm them. "Yes, thank you." The two-piece dress Gray had provided for her fit her perfectly. There was a great lacy white bow that tied just below her throat, attached to the white blouse that made up the upper portion of the ensemble. Ib rather liked the white, puffy long-sleeves. A scarlet suspender skirt hugged her waist and brushed just over her knees. Her wet clothes were hanging nearby, just over the antique space heater.

"I'm surprised I found something that fit you so well," Gray mused, sitting down once he'd secured the marshmallows and cream. "It looks like it was made for you, Miss Ib."

Ib nodded again, staring mutely into her hot chocolate. She wasn't sure what to say. She feared if she opened her mouth, she'd just start crying again.

"Miss Ib, would you mind telling me what has you so upset?" Gray asked gently.

Ib nibbled on her lips. She was so tired, all of a sudden. "I… don't want to trouble you." Tears immediately pooled in her eyes, despite her attempts to banish them.

Gray laid his hand gently on Ib's arm. "My dear, you aren't troubling me in the slightest. I very much want to help you, if I can."

Gray's touch was oddly comforting. The little girl thought to wipe her eyes on her sleeve but realized that would be incredibly garish, wishing instead that she'd brought her handkerchief. The thought of it squeezed her heart painfully. Her handkerchief…

The little girl's shoulders twitched with another sob. She angled her head down so that Gray couldn't see her face. "Garry told me he's leaving," she said quietly, voice trembling. She clutched her skirt tightly in her fingers. "Going to Spain. Maybe forever."

"Oh my goodness," Gray slid his chair slightly closer to Ib's corner of the table. "That is distressing news, certainly."

Ib shook her head, tears tapping onto the surface of the table. "I'm… selfish," she said bitterly. "Garry got a job at a place he's always wanted to work. He's my precious friend… Instead of being upset, I should be happy for him… But I couldn't hold back, and I…" Ib shut her eyes, damp hair falling over her face. "...I said mean things to him, and I ran away. He must be so mad at me…"

"Dear Ib," Gray gently moved some of Ib's hair away from her face, tucking it neatly behind her ear. He touched her face, urging her to look up at him so that he might wipe her tears. "I'm certain he's not cross with you. You cannot help your feelings, and you shouldn't suppress how you truly feel." He showed her a kind smile. "You really love Garry, don't you?"

Ib pinched her lips together, more tears swelling in her round eyes. She nodded. "If- if Garry isn't with me, I don't k-know what I'll do…" the little girl's voice quivered with her sobs.

Gray nodded in turn, understandingly, stroking the curve of Ib's cheek with his knuckle. "Love is painful, isn't it?" Gray asked reproachfully. "The pain you're feeling right now is proof of your love, Miss Ib. It hurts badly when someone dear to you breaks their promises. It makes your heart burst with misery." He lowered his hand to Ib's chest, his fingers ghosting just over her beating heart. "It makes you feel almost like you wish you hadn't a heart in the first place."

Ib couldn't possibly disagree. She'd never known anything to hurt so much. All she wanted was for it to stop. The strange visions, the horrible nightmares… Her feelings for Garry. Ib desperately wanted all of it to stop.

"For someone you love to have hurt you in such a profound way… It's no wonder you're in such a state."

The little girl looked up, shaking her head. "G-Garry didn't hurt me… Not on purpose…"

"He promised he would always be with you, did he not?" Gray asked, pulling his hand away. "That he would never leave you all alone?"

Ib wiped her eyes. "H-how… did you…"

"Adults are dishonest, aren't they?" Gray absently twirled a strand of his dark hair around a long finger. "You'd hoped that Garry was different, but they are all the same. They lose their hearts, they become sullied with time."

"T-that's not…"

Gray pushed his chair away from the table, standing up. His previously warm and welcoming presence transformed into something intimidating. Ib felt a chill fly up her spine as he approached her to kneel beside her chair, taking her small hands in his. "Miss Ib… You're tired, aren't you?" Gray asked gently. Ib's head felt fuzzy. She nodded again, more tears sliding over her cheeks. "Of course you are, dear. If you're tired why not rest?" Gray ran his thumbs soothingly in circles over the tops of her hands. "You'll never be hurt again."

A sob caught in Ib's throat. As wonderful as it sounded, she was filled with doubt. That surreal feeling had come over her again, tilting her perspective and filling her brain with white noise. She looked away, her shoulders trembling.

"But… Garry…"

Gray touched Ib's face, sliding a finger over her wet cheek to her chin, tilting her face to view him. "Your dear friend is leaving, Miss Ib." Gray's eyes were locked purposefully on Ib's, oddly empty, lacking their usual warmth. "Garry can't be with you anymore."

The words felt like knives in Ib's stomach. She stared blankly into Gray's eyes, his face obscured by tears. The little girl did nothing to stop the tears that fell from her bottom lashes. Hopelessness washed over her. She couldn't think anymore. Gray's hand felt cold against her skin, feathery light and strangely possessive. He cupped her cheek lovingly. "I can help you forget. I can help you lay down your tired head so that you need not think about anything troublesome ever again. No more nightmares, no more pain."

Ib's vision swam. Gray stood, squeezing her hand gently and helping her to her feet. Her legs were unsteady; she stumbled and fell against him, gripping his coat for support. Gray circled an arm over her shoulders to keep her upright. When Ib looked up, they were somewhere new. The back room of Gray's shop had folded outward and opened up, leaving room for a sleek, gloomy diamond shaped bed just in the center of the open space. Ib felt a jolt of fear as Gray began to lead them to it. She gripped his coat, burying her face in the fabric. He smelled like Garry. The nostalgic scent caused Ib's chest to swell with emotion. Her knees buckled and she slipped. Gray easily caught her, scooping her up in his arms.

Gray's face was close to hers, his lips pulled into a gentle smile. "You don't have to worry about anything anymore, Miss Ib. I promise I'll never leave you alone. I love you more than anyone, more than your parents, more than the real Garry." He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead. Freezing cold. "All I want is for you to be happy, always."

Ib's consciousness was fading. It felt good to let go, to let herself fall. Gray held her close, nuzzling his face in her hair, whispering sweet things that she desperately wanted to hear. He carried her to the strange bed, laying her small body down carefully. At once Ib felt an overwhelming sense of comfort. She did nothing to resist as Gray folded the little girl's hands over her stomach and draped the black sheets over her form. "Just sleep, Miss Ib. Sleep and forget everything that's painful."

Although the world felt like it was spinning away, Ib managed to open her eyes, glancing beside her as Gray sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her with a look of utter adoration. He looked so familiar to someone she knew, but she couldn't quite place who it was.

"Will you… really stay with me?" Ib asked, barely audibly.

Gray swiped some hair away from the little girl's face. She'd already fallen asleep, but it didn't matter. He knew she could hear him, even in sleep. "I will. Forever and ever. I will never leave your side, for as long as I exist." He leaned over her to once again lay a kiss to her forehead.

"Welcome home, Ib."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since my last update oh wow
> 
> anyway here's a chapter :3


	10. Interlude Pt. I

**Two Years Earlier**

* * *

 

This had to be the place.

Garry peeked at the massive property beyond the cast-iron gate nervously. He had never seen such a fancy place up close, and certainly not with any intention of visiting. The D'Amore estate was a daunting white mansion that loomed over the property with a sort of lordly grace that seemed too appropriate considering the family that resided within. Lush greenery was splayed across the yard and against the sides of the manor, nestled just under the long windows, coiling elegantly around the cream pillars.

Garry's mind whirled at the sheer enormity of it all. Was he  _really_ going to waltz in here and ask for permission to 'hang out' with this prestigious family's 9-year old daughter?  _Him_? He who has no claim to anything other than a shoddy apartment downtown and a crippling mountain of student loan debt? He'd rehearsed what to say over and over again, but now that he was standing awkwardly at the gate, every shred of confidence he'd managed to accumulate over the last several weeks was flung away in an instant.

He looked down at himself. In an effort to look his best, he was wearing a slate-grey jacket and slacks with a lilac purple button-up dress shirt. He'd been tempted to throw on a tie, but thought that maybe looking as though he were going to a job interview was a little too much. Even though he was wearing his best clothes, he still felt like a dirty pauper. A pauper who was about to try and convince a duke and duchess that he wanted to spend time with their daughter who was half his age.  _This can't end well. How on earth can this_ _ **possibly**_ _end well…?_

"Excuse me, are you here on business?"

A woman's voice from behind startled Garry out of his miniature panic attack. He whirled on his heel and let out a less-than-flattering yelp, his heart banging painfully against his ribs.

A lovely woman's surprised face blinked back at him, her red lips parted in an apologetic gasp. "My  _goodness_ , I didn't mean to frighten you! Are you alright, young man?"

Garry's brain caught up with the most current events, righting himself and distractedly adjusting his jacket. He knew her immediately. It was Mrs. D'Amore herself, Ib's mother. She was wearing a snug but modest black dress-shirt with frills framing her collar and shoulders, curving against her sides to meet a deep red knee-length skirt and flats. Her hair was up in an elegant bun, the same rich tawny color as her daughter's. Curled in her arm was a brown paper bag presumably filled with groceries, though Garry couldn't fathom why someone so wealthy would be retrieving her own shopping.

"A-ah, ah, um. Yes, I'm- I'm fine. F-forgive me, you just… Ahh, startled me, is all. But I'm rather easy to startle, so, ahh..."  _This is going swell, Garry. Why not also mention that you wet the bed until you were Ib's age?_

"I see," Mrs. D'Amore relaxed, a polite smile on her lips. "Well, then. Was there something I or my husband could help you with?"

Garry steeled himself, determined to rise above his awkward first impression. "Yes, actually. I'm- Well, my name is Garry Edmonds, ma'am. I was hoping I could speak to you and your husband, if he could spare the time. Or at least arrange a time that we could-"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure we could arrange something for another time. What are you selling?" Mrs. D'Amore asked, adjusting the bag in her arm. "Or rather, what company are you from?"

This was not going well, not even a little. "N-no, I'm not selling anything," Garry assured, feeling more and more discouraged by the second. "Mrs. D'Amore, I'd like to talk to you and your husband about Ib, actually."

Mrs. D'Amore's expression changed drastically. "What about Ib?" she demanded. "Are you from her school?"

"Ah, no..." Garry answered apologetically, "There's nothing wrong, so don't worry. Ah… It's actually quite difficult to explain…"

"What did you say your name was?" Mrs. D'Amore asked sharply, though her voice was lacking aggression. Garry still felt himself shrink, reminded of his own mother's voice when she was serious.

"G-Garry Edmonds, ma'am."

Ib's mother stared at Garry intensely for a moment, her blazing crimson eyes exactly Ib's color and just as striking. Garry fought the urge to fidget before finally she strode past him, opening the front gate. As it swung inward, she glanced at Garry with a much more subdued expression. "Please come in. My husband is inside, we can discuss things over coffee."

.

.

.

The long walk to the mansion was possibly the longest walk of Garry's entire life. His ears were burning, his palms were clammy, and at least 35% of him wanted to hightail it out of the neighborhood. This was a mistake. He should have just let things be. Though he supposed seeing a 9-year old girl in secret was just as much of a mistake, if not in a vastly different way. No, this was the only option. If he couldn't gain Ib's parents approval, he had no right to spend time with their daughter, no matter how unfair it seemed.

Though, he wasn't sure he could honor their wishes if it came to that.

"Here we are," Mrs. D'Amore's voice startled him for the second time in nearly as many minutes, although this time he managed to keep his shrieking internal. Ib's mother was pulling her key from the ornate lock, the front door swinging open. "Come right in, please."

"Ah, thank you," Garry followed the woman inside, trying hard not to gawk at his surroundings as though he'd never seen money in his life. "Would you like me to carry that bag for you?" he asked as Mrs. D'Amore closed the door with her shoulder. Her ruby lips pulled into a polite smile.

"I'll be quite alright, thank you." She walked past him, heading toward a room to the left of the grand staircase. Despite the rest of the home's elegant grandeur, the walls were strangely bare. "Just stay there for a moment, I'll be right back with you."

"O-of course," Garry replied as Mrs. D'Amore vanished around the corner and out of sight.

What started as an opportunity to compose himself and gain a second wind quickly turned sour as Garry heard quiet speaking in the next room, first Mrs. D'Amore, and then the lower cadence of an man. The talking continued for a moment, rising in tenacity until Mrs. D'Amore's voice shhed the volume back down again. Garry distinctly felt like he was sweating through his shirt.

When finally the talking subsided, he heard chair legs scrape along the floor and the rustling of papers falling on a table. Footsteps came closer until finally a broad-framed man stepped through the doorway, glancing toward the entranceway and it's sole occupant. Garry's shoulders instinctively squared, his lips set in a thin line.

Mr. D'Amore was wearing a white button-up dress shirt tucked into a pair of nice black slacks. Ib had previously informed Garry when they met to eat macaroons that Wednesday was her father's 'relaxation day', and it appeared she was correct. Though now that he was here, he felt rather bad for disturbing him.

"Mr. Edmonds, was it?" Mr. D'Amore asked, not offering the same polite smile his wife so easily offered. His face was hard and difficult to read, though his eyes were not-so-subtly tearing Garry asunder, unlocking every single detail about him in their search. Garry did his best to maintain some semblance of composure under his penetrating glare.

"Yes sir," Garry answered, nodding his head politely. "Garry Edmonds. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Mrs. D'Amore entered after her husband, curling her fingers around her husband's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "How about we all take a seat in the drawing room? I can start some coffee for us. Unless you prefer tea, Mr. Edmonds?"

.

.

.

Sitting on the D'Amore's ornate red and gold loveseat with the couple sitting across from him on an equally ornate couch was the most nerve-wracking experience of Garry's life. He tried to distract himself with his cup of earl grey, avoiding the piercing stares of the couple across the wooden coffee table.

Mrs. D'Amore peered at Garry over the rim of her coffee cup. Mr. D'Amore's arms were tightly folded over his chest and his jaw was tense, his own coffee going completely ignored.

"So," Mrs. D'Amore broke the rigid silence, setting her coffee cup carefully on the table with a fresh crescent of red lipstick on the ceramic. "Mr. Edmonds. You said you wanted to talk about Ib. Naturally, we're both interested in what you might have to say concerning our daughter."

Garry nearly toppled his cup, managing to keep it in his hands without spilling a drop. For safety's sake, he set his cup gently on the table.

"Right." Garry pulled a calming breath in through his nose. "Before I start, I have to admit that much of this is extremely hard to explain. I apologize in advance for that. But for now, well..." Garry squared his shoulders again, gently clearing his throat. "I met your daughter a few weeks ago, at the Guertena exhibit. We became friends, and I'd like your permission to see her again."

The atmosphere of the room dramatically shifted. Mr. D'Amore's expression became severe though he remained calm, while his wife merely looked confused.

"Pardon?" she asked, crossing her leg over her knee. "You'd like our permission to...?"

"Just to be able to see her," Garry continued, his own words sounding unfavorable even to himself. Just  _who_ asked someone something like this, anyway? "There's no simple way to say it, but I really wish there was. It wouldn't do to sneak around behind your backs, after all, and so-"

" _Have_  you been sneaking behind our backs?" Mr. D'Amore suddenly asked, his voice as sharp as a knife. "Seeing Ib?"

"Wha- no!" Garry shook his head, shaggy purple hair falling out of the neat, slicked-back style he had attempted and over his eye. He shakily swept it away. "I mean… I  _have_ seen her since then, but it wasn't-"

"So you  _have_ ," Mr. D'Amore interjected, his face calm but his eyes ablaze.  _Oh, dear. I might be leaving here in handcuffs today_. Garry realized in horror. "Just who do you think you are, secretly meeting with a  _child-_ "

"Walter, calm down," Mrs. D'Amore cut in, placing a hand on her husband's arm. She turned to regard Garry with a searching expression. "Mr. Edmonds, you must understand, this is quite an alarming thing to hear from a stranger out of the blue."

"I-I understand," Garry replied meekly.

"So you met Ib at the museum." she said, not quite a question, more like the opening of an interrogation. Garry nodded silently. "Ib is quite a reserved girl, you know. She has a hard time opening up to others, and talking to strangers is quite beyond her current skillset. However did you two become such good friends in such a short span of time? We were only there for forty-five minutes, near an hour at the most."

 _Give or take ten nightmarish hours_ , Garry thought bitterly. "That's…. Like I said, it's hard to explain…."

" _Try_." Mrs. D'Amore urged, not at all gently.

Garry swallowed a painful lump in his throat. "Ah, well… I suppose…" Garry sighed, feeling as though this was all for naught. How could he possibly explain something so insane without mentioning  _anything_ that happened in the fabricated world? "Something…  _frightened_ Ib. Frightened both of us, truthfully. I know it doesn't make much sense, but that's really all I can tell you. I, uhm, became injured. Ib allowed me to borrow her handkerchief. After that, I promised to return it to her."

Mrs. D'Amore nibbled her lips, her brows drawn in consideration. "Something frightened her? Whatever was it?"

Garry frowned apologetically. "That's… really all I can tell you." His shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But, you-"

"-'wouldn't believe me even if I told you'." Mrs. D'Amore finished, perking a brow at him knowingly. "Right?"

Garry blinked at the woman, eyes wide in surprise and perhaps a dash of resurrected hope. "Y-yes, exactly."

"Gena, you can't  _really_ accept this?" Mr. D'Amore hissed, fatherly concern etched into his deceptively youthful features. "He's clearly not telling us everything! Hell, he's not telling us  _anything_!"

Mrs. D'Amore leaned back into the plush backing of the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. "I understand that, but it does explain some things, regardless." Her crimson eyes flicked up again. "Mr. Edmonds, I believe what you're telling us, but you have to realize how frustrating it is to know there's a part of your child's life that is hidden from you."

"I'm really not trying to hide anything, I'm not. It's just-"

"I know, I know." Mrs. D'Amore raised her hand to dismiss his excuse before it finished. "Ib said the same thing when we asked after her about it. 'You wouldn't believe me even if I told you'. Ever since we visited the Guertena exhibit, Ib's been different. She can't sleep the night through. She can't even stand to look at the paintings around the house, so we put them all away until we could figure out what was going on."

Garry felt a familiar pang of concern deep in his chest. He knew Ib was having nightmares - he was too - but he didn't know just how bad they really were. They hadn't had much time to talk about the aftershocks of their terrifying experience yet. He'd only seen Ib once when they met to eat the promised macaroons, when he'd returned her handkerchief. He could tell Ib needed him, and if he was being honest with himself, he needed her just as much. They'd escaped that cursed world together, but they'd come back to a world where no one could ever understand where they'd been or what they'd seen. The euphoria of survival had worn off quickly. What they needed now was to heal, and they could only do that together. With another person who had been there, who had seen it. Without that, Garry knew neither of them could overcome it. Without Ib, he was positive insanity was only a well-timed night terror away. He was sure that was even more true for Ib, who didn't have the luxury of working through the experience with a developed, adult brain. Not that an adult brain was much help when murderous living portraits, dolls and statues were concerned. Not for him, anyway.

"I know she's been suffering," Garry said, holding his hands together in his lap. "I swear, all I want to do is help her. And I'd be lying if I said that wouldn't help me, in turn. Though… That's not why I'm here. I'm here because I've grown to care about your daughter, and I would like to be there for her, if you'll allow it."

A short silence permeated the air. The couple exchanged a look, and Mrs. D'Amore patted her husband's knee, causing him to groan and squeeze the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"I still don't understand anything about this," he said with a deep sigh, "and it annoys me that some stranger seems to know more about my daughter than her own father does. I can't just  _trust_ you when I know so little about the situation."

"I-I understand," Garry repeated.

Ib's father sighed again, letting it out slowly through his nose. "...However. You might not be entirely wrong on  _one_ point, at least." He glanced at his wife, who prompted him to continue with a nod. "Often when Ib wakes from one such nightmare... instead of calling for either of us, she calls for  _you_. For 'Garry'."

Garry's heart clenched painfully. All at once, he wanted to scoop Ib into his arms, hold her, chase the horrible nightmares far away. She didn't deserve it. Such a courageous, gentle girl could never deserve to be tormented night after night by those horrible memories. He needed to be by her side. He wanted to be there when she called for him, always. Nothing had ever been more clear to him.

"When you mentioned Ib and I realized your name was Garry, I knew you had to be the person she's been calling for," Mrs. D'Amore said seriously. "I was hoping you could help us put the pieces together, or give us some answers as to her behavior recently. I wasn't exactly expecting…  _this_."

"I know, and I apologize, Mrs. D'Amore." Garry said.

Ib's mother scooped up her cup of coffee, her lovely lips pursing to blow away the hot steam before taking a sip. "Call me Genavieve. No need to be so formal."

"Ah… Okay, G-Genavieve." Garry answered with much less grace than he would have liked. "Does this… mean…?"

"No, no," Mr. D'Amore cut in, anchoring his hands on his knees. "We're  _not_ making this sort of decision on the fly, Gena. I'm still not convinced this is a good idea."

Mrs. D'Amore took another drink of her coffee, tapping one of her slender fingers against the side of the cup as she went to set it back down. " _We're_  not deciding anything, dear. We should let Ib decide. If Mr. Edmonds is who she needs right now, then I'm willing to give him a chance."

" _Gena_ -"

"Walter," Mrs. D'Amore slid her hand over her husband's arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Garry wondered vaguely if Mrs. D'Amore's touch held some sort of mystic power over others. "Do you trust Ib?" At her words, Mr. D'Amore went silent, his eyes speaking volumes of the turmoil in his mind. After a time, he nodded stiffly. "I do, too. She's a smart girl who sometimes takes care of things in her own way. Nothing we've tried so far has helped at all… It might be time to let her choose what she needs."

The two of them exchanged a long, wordless conversation before Mr. D'Amore sighed again, loud and protesting, leaning back and rubbing his temple irritably. "Alright, fine. We'll let Ib decide. But I reserve the right to change my mind about this later."

"Wonderful." Mrs. D'Amore stood up from the couch. "I'll go fetch her, then."

"Wha- Wait, Ib is  _here_? Now?" Garry asked incredulously. He'd come in the afternoon in hopes that Ib would be at school. In case things went South, he hadn't wanted her to know.

Mrs. D'Amore hummed an affirmative. "Like I said, she hasn't been sleeping. She was so groggy this morning, I insisted she stay home and try and rest."

Before he realized what he was doing, Garry was standing up. "Please, I don't want to wake her if she's finally sleeping! I don't mind waiting, or-"

"I doubt she's sleeping well even if she is," Ib's mother interjected, smiling at Garry with something akin to fondness. "If you can help her at all, then I'd rather not wait." Mr. D'Amore stood up as well, fiddling with his collar, a frown plastered on his face as his only means of rebellion. Mrs. D'Amore motioned for Garry to follow her. "Come now. I'll wake her up so that you can meet with her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote the interlude chapters before I wrote the actual story lmao More on the way!


	11. Interlude Pt. II

Gobsmacked. Absolutely gobsmacked.

Instead of being escorted from the premises - by armed professionals, in a worst-case scenario - Garry was being ushered from the drawing room to the landing with the promise of seeing Ib. Despite his overwhelming relief, Garry knew he was being scrutinized harder than ever. At any moment, the D'Amores could decide they didn't want him anywhere near their daughter. Their trust in him was as delicate as it ever was.

"Stay right here for a moment, I'll go up and wake her."

Mrs. D'Amore left the men standing on the landing, making her way up the stairs as quickly as her skirt would allow. She veered to the right and disappeared down the upstairs hallway, presumably in the direction of Ib's room. Garry's stomach was spinning as though he were about to perform a dangerous stunt. He couldn't remember the last time he was so nervous. Or was he excited? He couldn't tell anymore. All he knew was that he wanted to see Ib, he wanted to be a part of her life.

Mr. D'Amore suddenly cleared his throat. Garry stifled an unbecoming shriek.

"Just for the record, Mr. Edmonds, I do  _not_ find it acceptable that you have seen Ib without coming to speak with us first." he said. Garry stiffened, guilt flaring up aggressively.

"Uhh, I'm… I'm terribly-"

"I'm  _only_ giving you a chance because my wife thinks you deserving of it, and you came here today to tell us the truth. Well,  _some_ of the truth, anyway, which is an honorable trait that many young men lack. Keep in mind, however, that there is no second chance. Understand?"

"Y-yes sir!" Garry nodded avidly. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. D'Amore folded his arms, his expression not changed since their talk in the drawing room. "...'Walter' is fine, for now," he said gruffly.

From upstairs, the sound of a door being thrown open counterbalanced the sudden footfall of fast steps down the hallway. Mrs. D'Amore's voice rang out, alarmed. "Ib, honey, just  _wait_ a moment…!"

A pair of round, shining burgundy eyes and a silky fall of auburn hair rounded the corner, stopping just at the top of the stairs as the little girl stared down at the men waiting for her at the bottom. Garry's breath caught in his throat, as if he were gazing upon a beautiful sunset or a heavenly body through a telescope. Ib stared down at Garry, her eyes still large and vaguely unbelieving, her small hands grasping the railing tightly. Her hair was only slightly mussed, a testament to her attempted nap, and she was still wearing her pajamas, a rabbit-patterned long-sleeved shirt with a pink collar and baby-pink pajama pants to match. To anyone else, Ib looked like an average - albeit adorable - 9-year old girl, but Garry saw a courageous person who had been suffering just as much as he had.

Mrs. D'Amore followed Ib down the hallway, watching the silent eye-contact between her daughter and the stranger, touching Ib's shoulder. "Ib, you shouldn't have just run out like that… You should at least get changed before-"

As if she couldn't hear the words being said to her, Ib started down the stairs at full speed, her lovely hair flying and bouncing against her shoulders. Garry gasped, the spell broken, holding out a hand. "I-Ib,  _careful_ , watch where you're-!"

Ib was down the stairs before Garry could finish, foregoing the last two steps entirely in order to leap into his arms, pressing her face hard into his stomach, twining her small arms around his waist. Garry withheld a sob that was threatening to break out of his throat, his taller body bending over her as he hugged her back, one of his hands raising to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling in her silky locks.

"Ib,  _goodness…_ " Garry softly laughed, tears forming in his eyes, "My, you shouldn't run like that on stairs, you know… it's dangerous…"

Ib didn't answer. She merely tightened her hold around his waist, her small shoulders jerking occasionally with quiet sobs. Garry instinctively stroked the back of her head in a gesture of calm, vigilantly keeping his own tears at bay. It took him longer than he would have liked to remember that he was being watched by both of the little girl's parents, and he was currently embracing her in his arms as though she were his long lost sister.

Composing himself, Garry gently pulled away, placing his hands on Ib's shoulders in an attempt to urge her to do the same; the little girl didn't budge. Garry flashed a terrified glance at Mr. D'Amore, worried that he may have already blown his delicate 'last chance'. Ib's father was standing with his arms still folded, his jaw clenched but his eyes betraying faint traces of emotion. His wife had come slowly down the stairs after her daughter, watching the scene unfold with a discerning - if not slightly surprised - eye. Garry realized neither one of them may have been expecting such an intimate reaction from their normally quiet and reserved daughter.

"Ib, uhm, I'm glad to see you too, but…" Garry tried again to pry Ib off of him, but the little girl determinedly tightened her hold. "...Ib…"

"It's really you," Ib finally murmured, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I thought… maybe I dreamed it up…"

Garry couldn't hold back from patting her head again. He smiled warmly down at the top of her head. "It's not a dream, Ib, I'm really here… Though, your mom and dad are here too, and we all kinda wanted to discuss something with you, kay?" He internally chastised himself for falling into his feminine speech patterns; he was fiercely trying to suppress any and all traits that such an upper-class family might consider 'odd', (though there was no quick fix for his purple hair,) and being agender, he thought, certainly fell under the 'odd' category for most.

Ib finally pulled her face away from Garry's stomach, looking up at him with shining, tearful eyes and flushed cheeks. Crying seemed to have taken a lot out of her.  _Cute_. Garry resisted the urge to cup her face and gently wipe her wet eyes on his sleeve. Instead, he offered her an encouraging smile.

"Ib, I had a talk with your mom and dad. I asked them if I could see you sometimes, so long as it's okay with them and… uhm… well..." Garry glanced at Ib's mother and father, pressing his lips together to keep from continuing. He supposed it would be best if they moved the conversation further. Both of them looked momentarily at a loss for words, likely still taking enormous amounts of mental notes about the situation.

Mrs. D'Amore stepped forward, bracing her hands on her knees. She smiled at Ib patiently. "Ib, dear, I can see you're very happy to see your friend, but could you come here for a moment?"

Ib's hands briefly tightened their hold on his jacket, and the little girl looked up at Garry once more as if to confirm he was still present. Garry very much knew the feeling. Seeing her again after two weeks was like a fresh splash of reality, a grounding that he didn't entirely know he needed. He would have hugged her for a full hour if something like that were allowed, just to prove to himself that she was real, that what happened to them was really  _real_.

Ib released Garry's jacket and obediently went to her mother's outstretched hand. Mrs. D'Amore took the girl's hands in her own, carefully crouching down to speak with her at eye-level.

"It's just like Garry said, Ib. He came here today to speak with us, and he told us that you two became friends at the gallery. Is that right?"

 _Crap_. Garry hadn't prepared Ib for any of this, and therefore he hadn't told her in advance what he'd planned on telling her parents. If Ib mentioned any of the horrors they'd experienced…

Ib merely nodded in reply. "Can Garry stay?" she asked, looking from her mother to her father with large, vaguely pleading eyes. "Can he stay here today? Please?"

Mr. D'Amore crouched down next to his wife, wiping his hand over his mouth. "That's what we'd like to discuss, sweetie. You see, this is all rather… ahh… that is to say, it's  _complicated_ , to say the least."

"Why?" Ib asked plainly, her voice devoid of emotion.

"Well…" Her father smiled apologetically, clearing his throat, "Neither you nor your friend Garry can give us an answer as to  _how_ you became friends. And the matter of your ages…  _well…_ "

Mrs. D'Amore placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, once again eliciting an immediate silence from him. "Sweetie," she addressed Ib, clearly trying again where her husband had failed, "We're just confused, is all. Can you tell us what happened to make Garry so dear to you?"

Garry had never felt so helpless in all his life. Somehow this whole scenario had turned into an interrogation - which he'd expected - though he'd expected the heavy questions to fall on him, not Ib.

Ib was silent for a long moment, averting her eyes to the floor. Fortunately, Mrs. D'Amore seemed like an expert on Ib's body language. She gently tugged her daughter's hands, smiling apologetically. "It's alright, dear. Is this about the nightmares?" Ib nodded immediately. Her mother nodded in turn. "I see, I see." Mrs. D'Amore stood up, still holding one of her daughter's hands. "Ib, would you like to see Garry sometimes?" she asked. Ib looked up at her mother, her pink lips parted in surprise. "Garry came here today to ask us permission to see you… Is that something you would like?"

Ib grasped her mother's hand, looking very near tears. "Yes, please! Could we? Can I see Garry?"

Mr. D'Amore stood up, smoothing his hand over his hair, blowing a sigh through his lips. "Sounds like that's a yes, Ib," he said. "How can we possibly say no _,_ after all?"

.

.

.

The next few moments were a whirlwind. Somehow or other, Garry had received Ib's parents permission to spend time with her, he'd been approved, and although he knew this approval was a delicate thing, he couldn't help but feel like he was walking on air. To say he was thrilled was an understatement. Before he'd come today, he had no idea what to expect; it wasn't as though there were handbooks on 'how to officially befriend children half your age' available to him. In that sense, things had turned out phenomenally, in Garry's opinion.

"Ib, what is this one called?" Garry asked, pointing at a cluster of bright orange flowers that were sprouting around the large marble fountain in the center of the D'Amore's back garden. Ib had asked to show the gardens to Garry after she'd gone upstairs to change; both of them were eager for time to themselves, even if they were saying nothing at all. Garry assumed conversation of their experiences and nightmares could come later, though he badly wanted to ask Ib about her dreams. If he could ease her mind even a  _little…_

Ib glanced at the flowers up-close, her finger on her chin. She hummed. "I don't know what it's called," she admitted. "Mama knows what they're called, though. She knows the names of all of these flowers. She works out here all the time, and she grew all of them herself."

"Wow,  _really_?" Garry asked. He felt slightly guilty for assuming that all of the flowers had been planted by professionals just because they could undoubtedly afford it. "That's incredible! Your mother sure has a green thumb, Ib."

Ib turned her eyes up to meet Garry's questioningly, kissing her lips together firmly. "I've heard that before, 'green thumb'. What does it mean?"

"Ah," Garry smiled and pointed a finger in the air authoritatively. "You see, having a green thumb means that you have a flair for making plants and flowers grow. It means whatever you touch seems to bloom with life."

Ib swept her gaze toward the lush garden surrounding them, considering it. "Mm. Mama has a green thumb. I don't have one at all."

"Me either," Garry chuckled. "Don't worry, Ib. I'm sure if you wanted to, you could be an amazing gardener."

The little girl glanced back at Garry, a gentle smile on her face. Garry's heart melted. Ib looked so tired before, but now, surrounded by beautiful flowers in the rays of the sun, she looked rejuvenated. She pointed to a bunch of violet-purple flowers with five petals each, all of them growing in a line around the stone pathway.

"These are the color of Garry's hair," she proclaimed, crouching on the path to see them more closely. Garry bent over, observing the flowers. It was true, they were almost exactly the same shade. "They're pretty." Ib added as an afterthought.

A soft wind blew through the garden, catching the girl's hair in the breeze. Garry silently studied Ib's face as the breeze revealed her fair features. Her hair fell gently back into place around her face, not quickly enough to hide how stony her expression had become. Garry stepped forward and crouched next to the girl.

"Ib… I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner," he said quietly. "I should have told you. I was worried…. Well, honestly, I was worried your parents wouldn't want me near you. And if that happened…" Garry cleared his throat in his hand, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"You didn't want me to be mad at mama and papa," Ib finished for him, hugging her knees. Garry blinked at the little girl, breaking out into a chuckle.

"How can I keep forgetting how clever you are?" Garry asked her, patting her head. "Anyway, that didn't happen, so we shouldn't worry about it anymore. We can see each other after all."

A small smile pulled at Ib's lips. She hummed again, closing her eyes and pushing her head into Garry's palm. He pet her again, grinning. "Ib, I bet you're sleepy, right?" Garry asked her softly. She didn't answer, though her shoulders had sagged and it seemed like the only thing keeping her upright was Garry's hand on her head. "Ib?"

The little girl very barely nodded. Garry gently touched her shoulder, helping to guide her to her feet. "My, my. Come now, let's have your mom and dad put you to bed-"

"Garry can do it," Ib said suddenly, placing her small hand over his. "If it's Garry… it might be okay…"

Garry stared down at the little girl, conflicted. He was trying very hard not to overstep his bounds. Then again, wasn't putting Ib to bed a bit like looking after a child you were babysitting? When he thought of it in those terms, it didn't sound nearly as imposing. And of course he would ask permission.

"If it's okay with your parents, I'll stay by your side as long as you like. Would you sleep better that way?"

Ib nodded avidly. "Yes, please."

Garry smiled fondly.  _Oh_ , how he wanted to hug her. His affection for the little girl was overwhelming. "Understood. Let's go and ask your parents, then."

.

.

.

Garry had received permission to stay with Ib until she fell asleep, but Ib's mother had helped get Ib ready for bed and tucked her in. Garry had never tucked a child into bed in his entire life, and was therefore grateful for the example. He sat in a small chair perched at the left side of the bed, his jacket folded neatly and draped over the chair behind him.

"Do you two need anything?" Mrs. D'Amore asked, smoothing her hand over the blankets before standing up from the bed.

Ib and Garry shook their heads in unison. Mrs. D'Amore smiled, gliding past Garry to turn off the lamp on the side table. She gave him a soft pat on the shoulder before turning to leave, and all at once Garry understood the magnetism of the woman's touch. Her ability to convey complex feelings through her fingertips was remarkable.

"Sleep well, Ib. When you're ready, Mr. Edmonds, I'll prepare you some tea before you leave."

"Ah, thank you Mrs- err, G-genavieve. And please, Garry is fine."

Mrs. D'Amore smiled at Garry from the doorway. She left them, keeping the door cracked open, light from the hallway spilling into the room and onto the foot of Ib's bed. Garry felt that she trusted him, but that trust only extended so far. He was grateful for any trust at all.

"You'll stay for a while, won't you?" Ib asked, her small voice gaining Garry's attention through the darkness. The little girl shuffled gently under her blankets, turning her face toward Garry to better see him. He sought for her hand at the edge of the bed, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her skin was soft and warm. Delicate.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry," Garry answered. "I'll stay here until you're good and asleep, okay?"

She nodded against her pillow, squeezing his hand back. Garry remembered that feeling in a very different place, for very different reasons. Or maybe it wasn't that different after all.

A comfortable quietude fell over the room. Ib's eyes fell closed, but Garry could tell she wasn't sleeping; her fingers were tightly curled around Garry's hand, as though she were afraid if she let go he'd disappear again. After a time, Garry gently broke the silence.

"Ib… Do you want to talk about the nightmares?" he asked her gently. "Would that help?"

Ib's eyes opened, revealing warm crimson irises. She stared at Garry for a good long moment in silence, but Garry knew the little girl well enough to know sometimes she collected her thoughts this way. Finally, she pulled the blankets down around her chin, pinching her lips together.

"Most of them are like the nightmare I had… in that place. Some of them are about Mary." she said quietly. Garry soothingly brushed some of the girl's hair away from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.

"Dear, me. I'm so sorry, Ib." He offered the girl a sad smile. "It's important to remember that we're no longer in 'that place'. We escaped, and we remembered each other. None of it can hurt us anymore." Garry was fully conscious of that fact that he was reassuring himself just as much as the little girl. As if she'd known somehow, Ib squeezed his hand a little more tightly.

"Is Garry having nightmares too?" she asked him. Garry's chest gently rose and fell with a heavy sigh.

"I really don't want to lie to you..." he admitted, chuckling uncomfortably, "Yes. Every night, in fact. It seems both of us survived, but we've walked away with a few mental wounds, huh?"

Ib sat up, the blankets falling off of her small shoulders, long strands of errant hair still attempting to stick to her pillow. "Has Garry been all alone having nightmares, too?" she asked seriously. Garry blinked at her, his mouth pulling into a fond smile.

"I suppose so," he answered. "But neither of us are alone anymore. We can see each other, so that should help."

"What will Garry do when  _he's_ trying to sleep?" Ib pressed on, her expression mildly perturbed. "Who will be there for him?"

"Ib, don't worry too much. I'm happy enough that I can be here with you now… That will be enough, I promise. Kay?"

Ib kissed her lips together, her brow knitting just enough to show that she was not quite convinced. She glanced around as though looking for something, pulling her hand away from Garry's in order to crawl to the opposite edge of the bed and swing her head and shoulders over the side.

"Ib…? What are you…" The little girl emerged quickly, grasping something floppy in her hands. She crawled back over to Garry's side of the bed, the retrieved item passing through the sliver of light from the open door. It was a pink stuffed bunny with a smart purple ribbon tied around its neck, its fur worn with time and attention, but it was clear that Ib took good care of her belongings. As Garry was assessing the toy, Ib handed it to him as though she were passing a sacred blade. Garry stared at the girl in surprise, slowly taking the bunny from her.

"Is… is this for me?" Garry asked, ashamed that his voice quivered with emotion. Ib nodded unhesitatingly. "Ib, I can't possibly accept something like this… It's a precious friend to you, isn't it?"

"It's okay. This way, you don't have to be lonely. You can think of me if you're scared." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "His name is Scarlet."

Garry glanced at the bunny, his fingers curling tightly around it's plush body. He didn't have the words to express how her thoughtfulness made him feel. How could such a selfless child possibly exist? Before he could stop himself, Garry pulled Ib into his arms, hugging her tightly, his chest tight with sentiment. He buried his nose in the waves of Ib's soft hair, feeling her small hands clutch at his shirt. He held her for a moment longer until his good sense kicked in. Releasing her, Garry worriedly fixed her hair, sniffing back tears that were threatening to burn past his eyes.

"Ahh... Sorry, Ib. Goodness, I may have gotten a little too emotional just then… Maybe we're both just tired, hm?"

Ib didn't answer, but her cheeks were rosy and she looked pleased. He rested his hand on the top of her head and she smiled, shutting her eyes.

"Thank you very much, Ib. I think Scarlet will help me sleep, surely." He moved his hand to her shoulder, gently guiding her back under the blankets and onto her back. "Alright, now. Speaking of sleep, it's time for you to do the same. Can you try and sleep for me, Ib?"

Ib nodded, her eyes looking heavier than before. She nestled into the blankets, letting a contented sigh blow past her lips. She slid her hand out from under the blankets, and Garry knowingly took it in his own. In his other hand he held Scarlet, rotating the plush bunny carefully to feel its fur. The pink material was smooth and dense, gone slightly rough in certain worn patches. Was it velvet? Garry didn't work with velvet often. It was a disagreeable material by nature, very outdated. He wondered if maybe the toy was a hand-me-down.

A memory of his childhood surfaced suddenly and he couldn't suppress a quiet giggle. He glanced up to see Ib staring at him inquisitively in the semi-darkness.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ib. I didn't mean to laugh, really, but your bunny Scarlet made me think of the Velveteen Rabbit. I haven't thought of that story since I was a child myself."

At Ib's continued silence, Garry's mouth fell open. "Your mother or father never read you that story, Ib?" he asked incredulously. Ib shook her head, her eyes still fixed on him. Garry beamed. "Ah, well. I believe now might just be the perfect time for a bedtime story, then. Would you like to hear the story of the Velveteen Rabbit?"

Ib nodded, pulling the blankets more tightly around her shoulders. Garry breathed a deep breath through his nose, quickly compiling the bits and pieces of the story he could salvage from his memory.

"Let's see… Ah, how do these things go? Oh, of course. Once upon a time, there was a stuffed velveteen rabbit. He was given as a Christmas gift to a young boy who received many wonderful presents. The boy played with his other toys, but forgot the velveteen rabbit entirely. The oldest and wisest of the toys in the nursery told the rabbit that toys could become 'real' if a child loved them hard enough and long enough, but the poor rabbit thought that such a miracle was leaps and bounds beyond his reach."

Ib listened to Garry as he told the story, though he noticed her eyelids were drooping and her grip on his hand was becoming slack. "One day, the boy's mechanical toys began to wear and break. He finally noticed the velveteen rabbit, and it became his very favorite toy. He slept with it every night, played with it every day, and enjoyed picnics with it in the Spring. The rabbit became worn, but he felt happiness beyond comprehension. The boy saw him as 'real'."

The little girl's hand slipped from Garry's grip, and he gently tucked her arm under the blankets. "But one day, the boy became very ill. The velveteen rabbit was by his side the whole time as he recovered, his fur singed away by the boy's fever. When finally the boy was well enough, the doctor ordered that every toy the boy touched in the nursery be destroyed in a fire, lest the sickness spread. The velveteen rabbit was taken away, put in a sack, ready to be destroyed. He reflected on his time with the boy, and he cried a real tear. Because of this, a fairy appeared to grant him his wish of becoming 'real'."

Becoming 'real'... The story was striking a melancholy chord within Garry, a sad reminiscence that he hoped Ib wouldn't pick up on. She appeared to be asleep, as far as he could tell. Perhaps that was for the best. He wasn't entirely sure either one of them were ready to traverse the subject of Mary's death quite yet.

"The velveteen rabbit transformed into a real rabbit because of the boy's love. The next Spring, he sees the boy from the forest, and though he still misses him, he's happy to be real, and to have been loved."

The little girl's breath was slow and even with sleep, a serene look on her angelic face. Garry was relieved beyond words. Ib looked so tranquil, it seemed impossible for any nightmare to trouble her. Garry hoped that was the case.

He'd stay a little longer, just to be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of the interlude! 
> 
> I'm taking a little break. I'm not sure for how long, I've just recently run out of juice on all my projects. I do intend to finish this little story, it just might not be anytime soon... I'm sorry for that! But I hope some of you will be around when I decide to pick it back up again!! This story really means a lot to me, as have all of your beautiful comments and reviews. Thank you all so much for your support!! (“⌒∇⌒”)


End file.
